Earning Your Place
by SpiritSouls
Summary: Spoiled from a life of luxary, a high elf finds herself thrown into the harshness of Skyrim. Will she put aside her selfish nature and prosper? Or will she be her own undoing?
1. Chapter 1

Resubmitting this with .net/u/1774541/SpecialAgentOrange advice, so hopefully it will read a little better from now on. A little note, I'm portraying Cyrodil as a very patriarchal society, simply because that's what it came across as. Seriously, there are no female imperial soldiers save for a few of the officers, yet the Stormcloaks are pretty much fifty/fifty split.

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><p>"By the Eight, this isn't right!"<p>

Elanin's voice echoed in the vast chamber if the White Gold Tower, but the amplified effect did nothing to sway the opinion of the assembled council members.

"The law is very clear on such matters, Miss Tiani." The head council member, an Imperial, responded calmly in spite of her outburst. "As a woman and the youngest, you are not eligible to inherit any of your fathers wealth or property. It is Imperial custom-"

"My father was a High Elf, born and raised on the Summer Set Isle! It is our belief that-"

"But you are not on the Summerset Isle, now are you, Miss?" One of the lesser members of the council sneered, leaning forward in his gilded chair. "If your father wanted you to be the sole beneficiary of his will, he should have remained where High Elf influence was dominant." A faint cough, amplified by the dome shaped ceiling, stopped the man and drained the color from his face. The Thalmor guards, each in glittering elven armor, stood in pairs alongside every door. While they gave no outward indication of emotion, their glittering eyes all now focused on the man in question.

"What he means..." Another council member stepped in, coming to the rescue of the others. "Is that, in spite of your upbringing, it is the law of the Empire, and therefore something that is out of our hands. Regardless of our current diplomatic relations." It was a poor apology at best, but the bristling guards settled none the less, and a collective sigh of relief was let out by all save for Elanin, who still trembled with rage.

"A messenger has already been sent to Anvil to inform your brother of the turn of events." The head council member said, bringing back the discussion back on topic and sounding rather bored with it. "He will likely return within the week, and when he does, you may speak with him on the matter of a stipend."

"My older brother is a chambermaid chasing spendthrift!" Elanin roared, knowing full well that she was making a scene. "Within a month he will have spent every Septim of my fathers wealth! What's worse, you know full and well he will toss me on the streets before the sun sets on his return!"

"You forget your place, woman!" The burliest council member, a battle scarred veteran snapped. "You have no right to question the authority of your brother or this council. In fact..." He turned to the head council member, his tone scathing and haughty. "Why we bothered to even hear this wench and her petty concerns is beyond me. Especially considering the many more pressing matters this council should be attending to."

"Petty concerns?" Elanin repeated, her voice cracking in her fury. Magic crackled about her clenched fists, though she kept a tight lid on the power pulsing through her magic infused blood. "This is my life you boar headed Imperials are tossing aside! Not to mention a million septims of inheritance that you're handing to a brainless louse solely because he was fortunate enough to be born male!"

"Enough! You're outburst does not help your case, Miss Tiani." The head council member snapped, raising his voice in a rare display of frustration. "If anything, it only proves that you are incapable of handling the pressures of such an inheritance."

"I-" Elanin attempted to jump back in to the argument, but the banging of the dragon headed gavel stopped her short.

"The Council has reached a unanimous decision. You, Elanin Tiani, are not eligible to inherit your fathers wealth or estate. As such, said inheritance shall instead be bestowed upon your elder brother, regardless of stipulations written in the will, which is henceforth declared null. This council is adjourned." Without further word, the council members stood, chairs skidding on the stone floor in their haste. Whispering amongst themselves, the old men quickly retreated back to the main chamber, none bothering to look back at Elanin as they did so. The door creaked on it's ancient hinges behind them as it slid shut, banging under it's own weight and rattling until it settled to silence once more.

Elanin was left alone to fume in silent rage and frustration. Was that it then? Twenty years into her several century lifespan, and everything was already crashing down? It wasn't fair, above all things, nor was it right. She was a brilliant example of the superiority of the High Elf race, she deserved nothing but the best, and she gave nothing but perfection. Already she was a master of the Arcane Arts and a brilliant sword fighter, all due to natural prowess and the best training gold could buy. But without wealth, how far would any of that take her in a land ruled by men? With difficulty brought by frustration, her clever mind struggled to find a solution, though nothing came, even as she began to pace subconsciously toward the nearest door.

Passing through the ornate and massive doorway, her eyes wandered over the Thalmor guards flanking the doorway. Though they were as still as statues, she could feel their eyes boring into her. They were scorning her. A high elf, beaten by the customs of an inferior people, it was as disgraceful to them as it was her.

Their haughtiness only fed her anger, even if she would have done the same of the roles were reversed. How was it her fault that her people still allowed the Imperials to keep their backward tradition of male dominance? Why did they limit themselves to mere embassies and ambassadors, forcing high elven women like herself to deal with their oppressive laws? If anything, why had her father needed to die? He had been old, but his health had been strong, and for him to fall ill and die within a week was something she had not expected or prepared for. If she'd had time, she would have had him moved back to the Sumerset Isle, where his will would have been legitimate and her claim to his wealth recognized.

But fate had already dealt that hand, and it had turned out poorly for her. All the better for her brother Calcemo, of course. How ironic was it that her father had sent him to Anvil in the hopes of teaching him about frugality, and yet now he was to inherit everything for nothing? Now he had everything, and she had nothing, not even the hope of a future...

And then realization hit like a bolt of electricity, stopping her rigid in her tracks.

She did have a chance, a chance in the form of a single other living relative. An uncle, a brother of her long deceased mother who had gone north to Skyrim many years before she had been born. From what little correspondence they had received (the last letter had been sent some years ago) he was doing well, but was without heirs and had hoped to arrange a contract of sorts. Her father had denied, mostly due to the fact that such a transition would have required direct contact, and neither party had been willing to make the several week trek over the Jerral mountains.

But if that offer still stood...

I shall speak to my brother on his return, and gain the funds to travel such a distance. Elanin told herself, a plan already forming in her clever mind. He would much rather just hand over a purse of septims than deal with any resistance to his claim. With a renewed vigor, she strode through the halls of the White Gold Tower like the noble that she was. A challenge lay before her, one that threatened both her standing and her life, and she would face it as such.

For she was not just a noble, she was a survivor.

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><p>Five weeks.<p>

Five weeks of exhausting travel, five weeks of hunger, five weeks of struggle.

And she was almost there.

At long last, she was nearing the end of the Jerral mountains, and the sky scraping peaks were beginning to lower. The cold was lessening, and she found herself walking steadily downward rather than eternally upward. Even trees were once more becoming a common sight, and her current path was surrounded by them on both sides, thick hardy stems clinging to the snowy stones and blocking her view of the lower side of the mountain. It was the first positive sign she'd had in weeks, and Elanin was taking all of it in. The tattered silken robes about her shoulders and her gaunt features were testament of her ordeal, but her eyes glowed with just as much determination as they had on the day she had started off, though her coin purse was notably lighter.

I should still have enough to purchase passage to Solitude, I doubt these barbarians charge much for anything... It was very unlikely that she would be journeying for more than another two days, though the dimming light likely meant that there would not be much more travel time today.

"To think I'm so close..." She said aloud, as she often did to break the dead silence of the mountains. There was no response save for the chilling breeze through the trees and stone, but that was all she had come to expect. Being the quick learner that she was, Elanin had begun to learn the ways of the mountain, particularly the noises and what they entailed. The rumbling of an avalanche, the groaning of a loose ledge, and the crumbling of-

Clack! Clang! Bang!

Rockslide! The loud clangs were unmistakable, and she immediately whipped her head around to determine the source. While the echoing caused by the natural curve of the mountain made it difficult, her well attuned ears quickly picked up that the noise was coming from just a bit down the slope. Her panic subsiding, Elanin was able to make out the peculiar metallic ring to the sound. A moment later she came to another realization, those weren't rocks clanging, those were weapons! There was a battle! Knowing full well she was not physically prepared for battle, Elanin took care to try and find the specific source.

Could it be further down the path? It sounds close... Pointed ears straining as she took steady steps forward, she was able to get a rough idea of the exact location of the skirmish, as well as how many combatants were involved. Quite a few well armed soldiers by the sound of the battle, not common bandits raiding a caravan then. Was Skyrim truly in such turmoil that it was spilling over to the borders?

A gap in the trees and rocky outcroppings created by a recent mudslide allowed Elanin to peak down the mountain to gain a better view. The muddy slope was steep, but not too long, and the at the bottom she could clearly see the fray. Squinting, Elanin tried to determine who was fighting. Were those Stormcloaks? Their uniform seemed to match descriptions, but it was hard to tell with the dimming light. Driven by curiosity, Elanin leaned forward, gripping a thick bush for support. Those were indeed Imperial guards, Stormcloaks as well. Why would they be-

The thought was never finished, as her support snapped and sent her tumbling down the slope.

With a scream, Elanin hit the mud, sliding and falling end over end in a display that would have been comical had it not been potentially fatal. Stones and sticks bumped and battered her body as she fell, and it did not take long for numerous cuts and bruises to open up on her flesh. The bone jarring tumble ended as she hit the bottom, right into the middle of the fray. Head spinning, Elanin was not even able to make sense of the chaos around her, head lolling as she held herself up on her hands and knees. The instinct to survive took over faster than any willpower on her part.

Fumbling, she forced herself to stand, still not gaining any attention from the battling forces that were now on every side. The chaos spun around her, disorienting her further as she stumbled to a shambling run. The clangs of battle sounded around her, though the din was lessening as one side began forcing the other into submission. The fuss was so concentrated she might have been able to make a clean run for it...

Had she not run right into an armored Imperial Officer.

The soldier stumbled from the hit, but Elanin was sent sprawling, staring up with horror at the soldier. Regaining coherent thought through fear, she held up her mud streaked hands in defense as he raised his blade.

"No! Please! I'm innoce-"

But the flat of his blade struck her skull, and she knew no more.


	2. Chapter 2

The plodding of hairy hooves over dirty, hard packed snow was like a rhythmic drumbeat through the wintery forests of southern Skyrim. The rumbling of the weather beaten cart as it moved over uneven terrain sounded in time to it's unsteady rocking, the aged wood creaking and groaning in protest to the constant motion. An icy wind eased it's way through the rocky slopes, sending flurries of snow airborne once more to dance around the convoy of wagons.

Enalin woke to take it all in with blurry eyes and muffled hearing, her skull pounding on the right side. Her eyes, caked over with a thin layer of grime from an extended period of unconsciousness, took notable effort to keep open. Her tan skin, unused to such weather, was riddled with goose bumps, though she didn't have the energy to shiver. A small groan of discomfort escaped her throat, barely audible to most of the passengers who she could sense in the wagon around her, but just loud enough to be heard by the one across from her.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake." a heavy nordic accent drove her to lift her head, aching though it was. The speaker was a nord, through and through, she could tell by looks alone. Blond, dirty hair hung in collapsed braids about his shoulders, and his eyes were a fairer shade of blue than she had ever seen down south. The mans arms were thick and sturdy from the life of work and toil his homeland commanded, and his skin had a natural roughness to it. All in all, his filthy appearance disgusted her. "You were trying to cross the border, right?"

"Border?" Elanin repeated, her eyes narrowing as she struggled to get a hold on the situation. What was this barbarian rambling about? All she remembered was traveling through the mountains, going along the same as she had for weeks before...

And then she remembered it all: the battle, the soldier, the blow to her skull... Oh gods, her head... The memory itself turned the dull throb into a fiery agony, and she instinctively moved a hand up to the wound.

Only to find her wrists were bound tight.

Confused and still somewhat disoriented, she looked down with animalistic alarm. Thick, rough ropes bound her delicate wrists together in her lap. With growing panic, she noticed that her tattered robes were gone, replaced instead by dirty rags of stitched together fabric. Even her shoes were gone, replaced by tattered footwraps. Nose crinkling in disgust, she attempted to stem her own revulsion at her appearance.

"By the Eight, what happened? Where am I?" She questioned, and was insulted as the Nord only smiled in response.

"Imperial must have hit you pretty hard elf. You were trying to cross the border, right?" He asked, and Elanin only nodded in response, eager for any kind of clarification. "You walked right into an Imperial ambush. Same as us, and that thief over there." The Nord nodded his head to the passenger beside him, and Elanin felt a fresh wave of revulsion at the sight. A notably scrawnier nord, wearing rags like her own, sat in the spot beside the other. He appeared to be fairly beaten down, but still in better condition than herself. The hardiness of the nords was more than a rumor then.

"Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy..." the man spat, lip curling in obvious hatred for his passenger and kinsman. "If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to

Hammerfell!" He turned to face her, and she reviled at the sight of his blackened teeth. "You there, you and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants." The blond nord appeared undisturbed by the thief's words, answering cooly but sharply.

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." his added emphasis on the last word stung the man into silence.

"But why am I here? I am a noble and an innocent, I have done nothing wrong!" Elanin pleaded, eyes darting about for some kind of authority figure or the like. Unmoved by her plight, the blond Nord only shrugged in response.

"They probably assumed you were with us or the thief. Can't imagine Imperials would show any mercy-"

"Shut up back there!" The imperial driver barked. The order was met with a scoff from the horse thief, who turned to the prisoner opposite him.

"What's wrong with him, huh?"

"Watch your tongue!" The blond nord growled, his body tensing and his bound hands clenching into fists. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king!" Enalin tensed at the revelation of the mans name, snapping her head to look at him in spite of her necks protests against the movement. The prisoner beside her was every bit a man of power and authority. Steely eyes gazed at each of them in a powerful and encompassing gaze, his powerful form radiating confidence and strength. His shoulders still wore the rather tattered remains of a once regal fur cape, and, strangely enough, a rag was tied around his mouth. Ulfric? The murderer of the high king? It couldn't be... The horse thief shared her surprise, voicing his shock immediately afterwards.

"Ulfric? The Jarl of WindHelm? You're the leader of the rebellion!" His uneducated mind mulled over the information for a moment, trying to decide what implications this might have on him. Horror crossed his dirt covered features as he finally realized what the others passengers already had. "But if they've captured you, then... Oh gods, where are they taking us?"

"I don't know where we're going..." the blond nord said, his voice heavy with bitter acceptance of the inevitable. "But Sovengarde awaits..." Enalin felt a chill of instinctive fear settle in her gut, not needing a thorough understanding of nordic religion to know what he meant. She didn't want to die! Not now, and not like this! A high elf deserved to die with dignity, not clad in rags and surrounded by Nordic savages! She needed to find someone, to explain what had happened. Surely all of her hard work couldn't end here!

"No! This isn't happening! This can't be happening!" The thief cried to no one, as no one bothered to care.

"Hey...What village are you from, horse thief?" The blond Nord asked suddenly, shattering the tense silence that had befallen their miserable little group.

"Why do you care?" The thief grumbled back, glaring daggers at the man. Elanin only listened, hoping for some comfort in the mans words.

"A nords last thoughts, should be of home." He reminded simply, likely repeating the phrase from a simple lesson learned during boyhood. The thief went silent before responding rather quietly, his voice tinged with bitter nostalgia.

"Rorikstead... I'm, I'm from Rorikstead..." The statement brought Elanin back to her own past, the fond and now long gone memories of her home in the Imperial city flooding back in a rush. She thought of the better days, when father was alive and her worries were few. To think it was not so long ago...

"General Tulius sir! The headsman is waiting!" The bark from the imperial officer snapped her back to the present.

"Good. Let's get this over with!" An authoritative voice called back, and she turned her head to see that they had arrived at a small village, and a gate built into an aging stone wall was opened for them. The wagon before them had just begun to enter as the thief began to moan once more.

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh... Divines, please help me!" If the gods heard his plea, they certainly did not answer. Not even a breeze resisted them as they passed through the gate and into the village, a rather tiny one by the looks of it. All around them, villagers went about their daily business, likely enjoying the pleasant weather that accompanied their work.

It was not the kind of place Elanin had pictured herself dying. She had always imagined an elegant death of old age in a warm bed, surrounded by people and relatives of worth. To die here, clad in rags and surrounded by rabble, and to serve as nothing more than a show of sick entertainment... The very though made her grow physically ill. Her wide eyes looked all about, at the mountains that scraped the sky on all sides, to the villagers that gawked on every side, looking at her as if she was nothing but an animal.

"Look at him, General Tullius, the military governor! And looks like the Thalmor are with him." The nord across from her spat, his fair eyes following the ornately armored man on horseback who had since veered off from the main group. Elanin watched him as well, taking a gasp of surprise as she saw that he was speaking to a group of... elves. The Thalmor! Three of them, a hooded justicar on horseback, flanked by two guards in glittering elven armor, all perfect examples of the magnificence of their race. A part of her thought to call out to them, surely they would realize the folly in her being here? A high elf such as herself had no place among these nords, after all.

"Damn elves, I bet they had something to do with this." The color drained from her face at the thought. The memory of the ambush was vague, but was it possible that her own kind had staged the attack? The irony was as terrifying as the implications. Would they think her guilty of associating with theses... vandals? So she was not only doomed to die amongst them, but as one of them? Her insides churned with terror and revulsion at the thought. Her inner turmoil was interrupted as the blond nord spoke once more, his voice heavy with nostalgia and sadness.

"This is Helgen, I used to be sweet on a girl from here... Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in..." He shook his head, fair blue eyes staring off into the depths of the pale sky. "It's funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."

"Who are they daddy? Where are they going?" She heard a little boy behind her ask.

"You need to go inside, little cub." A mans voice responded. The child made an effort to argue, but gave in with little fuss, and she heard the door shut behind her. They were rounding a kind of tower now, and she could see that the wagon before them had already stopped in an open area that likely made up the town square. She heard the imperial soldier stop the horse, and the sudden lack of motion made the thief start up once more.

"W-why are we stopping?" He stuttered, small eyes darting about like a cornered animal.

"Why do you think?" The blond nord responded bitterly but calmly. "End of the line." At a bark from one of the soldiers, the others in the cart stood with her, and she followed mechanically.

"No! Wait! We're not rebels!" The thief blubbered, trying desperately to gain the attention of one of the soldiers. He jumped down from the wagon, and Elanin followed, feeling suddenly detached from everything. She'd heard of the multiple stages that one went through before death, ending in acceptance, she had simply never expected to go through them herself.

"Face your death with some courage, thief." The blond nord chastised with little effort, suggesting he was now at the same emotional state as Elanin.

"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake-!"

"Step toward the block when we call your name. One at a time." a broad shouldered Imperial Captain, the only female officer there, spoke with a heavy and desensitized tone. Elanin lifted her eyes, and could tell solely from the woman's body language that she had seen far more bloodshed than most.

"Empire loves their damned lists." The Nord beside her muttered, reawakening his emotions to voice his discontent.

"Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of WindHelm." The nord beside the captain began, scribbling his quill over the parchment. Without a sound of complaint, the jarl stepped forward, walking unguided to his place beside the block. Elanin followed his movements, though his destination was obscured by the crowd at her left.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric." The nord beside her spoke proudly, bowing his head in reverence as the man passed.

"Ralof of Riverwood."

With equal calmness, the man beside her, who she now knew as Ralof, went to join his companions. He glared at each imperial as he passed, and Elanin swore some seemed to flinch under his gaze.

"Lokir of Rorikstead." Unlike his predecessors, the horse thief Lokir began to fidget, taking several quick steps up to the two imperials. The officer put a hand on the hilt of her sword.

"No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" He made a split second decision, and began to run, taking an awkward, stumbling gate thanks to his bonded hands. He moved with considerable speed, however, in spite of it, driven by fear and the instinct to survive.

"Halt!" The captain barked after him, though it had no effect.

"You're not gonna kill me!" The man taunted back, beginning to round the corner. With a signal and a command from the officer, the two soldiers who had been standing to the side drew their bows, letting fly two arrows. With expert precision, the shots thunked deep into the thief's back. With a strangled gasp, Lokir fell forward, lying motionless in the dirt where he fell in a growing pool of blood.

The sight woke Elanin from her haze, and all she could do was stare at the body. Never in her short life had she witnessed such violence, and it rocked her to her core. She could feel the animalistic urge to survive well within her as the officer turned back to them all.

"Anyone else feel like running?" She taunted, and Elanin swallowed to clear the lump from her throat. Stone cold silence greeted her, and the officer beside her returned to his task. His brow furrowed in confusion, and he looked directly at Elanin for the first time.

"Wait, you there. Step forward." Slightly taken aback, it took a moment for her to comply, taking a few shaky steps toward the armed officers. Her golden eyes warily took in both their swords, and the captain gripped the hilt if hers tightly when she caught get eye. She felt both of their eyes boring into her, and was reminded of the habit of nobles to size each other up upon meetings. Those encounters never ended in blood, though, not usually, at least. "Who are you?"

"Elanin Tiani, I'm-"

"You're not with the Thalmor Embassy, are you high elf? No, that can't be right..." He cut her off, scribbling some more information onto his parchment. The total brush off left her at a loss. Nobles were not used to being ignored, and a flush of indignation filled her, even in the face of death.

"I am a noble of house Tiani in the Imperial City." She asserted, golden eyes glittering with rage. "You have made a mistake-"

"And I'm the illegitimate daughter of the Emporer." The Captain scoffed, settling a firm hand around her swords hilt. "Keep that tongue still if you want to prolong what little of your life is left, elf." Elanin bit her lip to stifle a response, glaring at the woman with a feeling of hatred more intense than she had ever felt before.

"Captain. What should we do? She's not on the list." The other officer continued, and the captain snorted, crossing her arms across her shining steel chest plate.

"Forget the list, she goes to the block."

"By your orders, Captain." He turned back to her, half genuine sympathy in his eyes. "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to the Summerset Isle." A part of Elanin wanted to say that she had never even been to Summerset Isle, but her common sense won out, and she remained silent. "Join the others, Prisoner." Doing as she was told, Elanin turned to the group, only taking half a step before the Imperial Captains boot in her lower back forced her forward. Gritting her teeth, Elanin took her spot, standing tall in spite of the humiliation. She took sudden note that all gathered seemed to be Stormcloak soldiers, and a ring of imperial guards and citizens watched on all sides.

"Ulfric Stormcloak." A man in ornate imperial armor spoke up, likely the General Tullius that Ralof had spoken of before. "Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a powe like the voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." The jarl growled from behind his covering, but could not put forth any more complex of an argument. Tullius's tone became sharp and accusing, and a few of the townspeople let out murmurs of agreement. "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace!"

As if nature herself approved, an unnatural wind blew through the town, carrying with it an unearthly echo. All present turned their heads upward, suggesting to Elanin that such a thing was not commonplace in Skyrim.

"What was that?" The imperial soldier who had been reading off names spoke up first, though the general was quick to reply, moving over beside the priest that stood off to the side.

"It's nothing. Carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius!" The Captain responded, turning to the priest with a nod. "Give then their last rites." The woman nodded, then lifted her hands to the sky, speaking with a voice that was both clear and beautiful.

"As we commend your souls to Atherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved-"

"For the love of Talos, shut up, and let's get this over with!" A soldier spoke up, marching to the blood stained block without fear. The priestess widened her eyes in surprise, but with a nod if consent from the captain, she relented.

"As you wish." The Stormcloak soldier, a nord at the ending days of his prime, sneered at the headsmen.

"Come on, I haven't got all morning!" Not to be outdone, the Captain forced the man to his knees before the block, driving her boot into his spine to force his neck onto the stained stone. Though Elanin could not see his face, she knew he was staring his killer in the eyes. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials..."

The executioner raised the exe.

"Can you say the same?"

With a sick, wet crack, the executioner connected his axe, and the mans severed head fell neatly into the basket below as blood gushed from the stump of his neck. With a snort of contempt and a kick from her boot, the Captain pushed the lifeless body aside, steam rising from the still warm blood as it pooled on the dirt. Elanin's jaw dropped in shock, her tan face going white with terror as her heart sprang into her throat. She had seen two men die in over the course of mere minutes, and her delicate upbringing had certainly not prepared her for the grim sight. Beside her, the other prisoners appeared less disturbed and more enraged at the sight.

"You Imperial bastards!" One woman snarled, and she was quickly retorted by a chorus of cheers from the villagers.

"Justice!"

"Death to the Stormcloaks!"

"As fearless in death, as he was in life..." Ralof said amidst the cheers, his head bowed in silent grieving.

"Next, the high elf!" the Captain barked, pointing a finger at Elanin. Her blood froze, but before she could move, the same echoing noise from before blared out around them, this time far louder than the last. All present turned their heads in every direction, trying to ascertain the source of the mysterious noise.

"There it is again, did you hear that?" One of the imperials remarked, but the Captain quickly silenced him from commenting further.

"I said, next prisoner..."

"To the block prisoner, nice and easy..." Her feet moved without protest to the command, and she could feel the haze of submission muting out her will to live. With hollow eyes, she looked each one of the soldiers in the eyes as she came to them, silently accusing each for her untimely death. She took in the sight of the body beside the block as she reached it, lying still in a pool of it's own blood. She had but a moment to look the executioner in the eyes, and was terrified at what she saw. He had the eyes of a man who was so desensitized to death he no longer cared about life, like a walking corpse. She suddenly felt the Captain force her to kneel, and the hardness of her boot shoving her head onto the still bloodied block. In spite of it all, she cringed with revulsion as the blood, still warm with life, matted her golden hair and stained her neck, it's irony scent filling her nostrils.

Tilting her neck the slightest bit, she stared at the executioner, watching as he lifted the axe, brought it behind his head to gather momentum. A sudden charge of fear pulsed through her, and she squeezed her eyes shut tight, not wanting to see the blow.

But it never came.

A loud, unearthly roar cut into the morning air, and she opened her eyes to see a dragon emerge from behind the side of the mountain that bordered the town.

"What in Oblivion is that?" She heard the General cry, and Elanin felt a sense of utter terror engulf the village.

"It's in the clouds!" One soldier cried, and she struggled to see from her limited vantage point as the creature momentarily left her field of view. It reentered with a literal boom, several tons of scaly muscle touching down on the tower that reared up above her. The shock wave shook the executioner to the ground, and his bloody axe clattered against the dirt.

"Dragon!" Someone behind her cried, and Elanin lifted her head off the block to stare in terror. With ruby eyes, the black scaled Titan looked the crowd over, it's bat like wings hanging down the sides of the tower. After a moment, the creature seemed to decide on it's plan of action, and opened it's tooth filled maw.

The stories and legends that Elanin had studied told that dragons breathed fire and ice, but what happened next was a thousand times more devastating. No fire or ice erupted from the creatures throat, but instead a bone rattling shout, so powerful as to knock any still standing off their feet. The clouds above immediately began to churn and boil, swirling together with an unnatural red glow, almost like fire. It then began to thunder, and chunks of flaming stone fell from the sky above, some the size of small boulders.

"Don't just stand there! Kill that thing!" Tullius ordered, and the scraping of unsheathing swords was heard all around. No sooner had he issued the order than the dragon shouted again, a crushing wall of force that threw back everyone in it's path and sent Elanin rolling backwards, her bound hands preventing her from stopping herself. Resting face down in the dirt, she heard the unending symphony of booms as the stones crashed into the earth, some colliding with houses to crunch through the once solid timbers. Though she couldn't see, she felt the rush of air as the beast took wing, letting out another ungodly roar as it rose.

"Guards! Get the townspeople-" General Tullius's command was drowned our by the chaos, and Elanin could no longer tell what was going on. The roar of noise around her made it impossible to think, let alone to move. A part of her told her to lie still, that playing dead was the only way to escape such a beast...

"Hey, high elf! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!" A strong pair of hands grabbed her by the shoulders, and she was forced to her feet. She found herself facing Ralof, the soldier from before, though now his arms were free and he possessed an Imperial blade, as well as a fresh stain of blood across his armor. Instinct took over, and no words were needed as he began to run with Elanin following just behind. "This way!" He shouted, pointing to the tower on the far side of the square. His guidance was hardly necessary, and both ducked into the keep as a flaming stone the size of a child crashed to earth just behind them.

Panting, Elanin placed her hands on her knees as Ralof slammed the door behind them, muting the noise just the slightest. Two other Stormcloak soldiers lay bleeding on the stone floor. One of them, a young woman, was literally trying to hold her guts in through a gash on her midsection, blood gurgling from her throat. Gagging, Elanin turned away from the sight, seeing that Ralof had now begun to speak to another man... The Jarl! Ulfric had managed to secure a blade of his own, and was now free of his binds as well as his mouth gag.

"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?" Ralof asked, his voice slightly rough from so much exertion. With a voice as cool and hard as steel, the Jarl redponded.

"Legends don't burn down villages." A thundering roar shook the tower, and streams of dusted drifted down from the stones overhead. With a frown, Ulfric observed the trembling masonry, then he spoke with undeniable urgency. "We need to move, now!"

"Up through the tower!" Ralof decided, making his way to the stone stairs that encircled the towers inner walls. "Let's go! This way friend, move!" Needing no further convincing, Elanin made her way up the stairs, taking the lead by going up in two or three at a time with her long legs. They immediately came to the second "floor" of the tower, where a Stormcloak soldier was working furiously to clear fallen rubble from the next stairway.

"We just need to move some of this rubble!" She heard him cry as they reached the top, going just high enough to see him struggling with a boulder half his size. Before she or Ralof could make a move to aid the man, the wall to their right was bashed in, chunks of stone flying as the tower shook with enough force to nearly knock Elanin back down the stairs. The man who had been clearing rubble was thrown back to the center of the circular floor, his leg caught underneath a massive hunk of masonry. Dust and small pebbles fell from the curling above, some of which clattered on the nose of the dragon that had forced a part of it's great head into it's self created gap. It's ruby eyes came to rest solely on the trapped man, who screamed in terror as the beast opened it wicked maw.

Yol...Toor...Shul!

The alien words ripped from the creatures throat with a blast of flame, engulfing the trapped man and filling the small room with a heat so intense that Elanin and Ralof were forced to retreat a short way down the stairs. As soon as the flames dissipated, there was a rumble as the creature took flight, loud cracks ringing out as it flapped it's tremendous wings.

Ralof took the lead up, and was the first to take in the sight. The man had been reduced to nothing more than a blacked corpse that still sizzled from the heat, with a few tendrils of flame licking at what little purchase remained. They both quickly turned away, and Elanin felt bile rising in her throat at the scent of burnt flesh that suddenly filled her nostrils.

"See the inn on the other side?" Ralof said suddenly, putting a hand on get shoulder to turn her. Looking out the dragons self made window, she did indeed see the inn just below their vantage point, though a considerable chunk of it's roof had caved in, and fire was slowly spreading across the dry timbers. "Jump through the roof, and keep going!" Her eyes went wide, and she faced the man with a look of incredulousness.

"Have you gone mad? I'll never make it!" Bristling with impatience, Ralof took her bound hands, slicing with expert skill through the ropes.

"Relax, never saw an elf that couldn't make a jump this height, now go!" With that, he gave her a mild shove, and she half fell, half jumped out of the opening. She cleared the space after a moment of free fall, hitting the wooden floor with a clumsy roll, using her now free hands to keep herself steady. The impact knocked the wind out of her, but she suffered nothing worse than the pain of the initial landing. Gaining her footing uneasily, she coughed as she lifted her head into the gathering smoke, eyes watering as she quickly made her way across the floor. Broken and smoldering furniture lay strewn about the small second floor, but it took no time for her to see the only way down was through yet another hole on the far side of the inn. Jumping down, this time with greater ease thanks to the reduced height, she ran into the open.

"Haming, you need to get over here! Now!" She was confronted by the imperial officer that had been reading the list, struggling to coax a crying boy away from a dying man that was likely his father. The discussion had likely been going on for some time, as the boy relented at a few whispers from his father, letting go of the blood soaked man and running to the officer. The soldier guided the boy behind a house, where Elanin saw another man, this one rather old, was already waiting. "That a boy, you're doing great."

An earth shattering boom followed as the dragon touched down, crushing what little life remained in the dying man by impaling him on it's talons. The little boy let out a wail, burying his face into the older mans chest as he sobbed in grief. Elanin watched it all in numb shock, frozen until she heard the imperial cry out a warning.

"Gods, everyone get back!" With almost no time to react, Elanin crossed what little distance remained between herself and the other group, taking shelter behind a partly collapsed home as the dragon let forth another blast of fire. The flames licked around the corners of the wood, but the shelter held strong, and the creature eventually took wing once more.

"Still alive prisoner?" The soldier asked, keeping his eyes trained on the sky above. "Keep close to me if you want to stay that way." He turned back to the old man, who still held the trembling child close. "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense."

"Gods guide you, Hadvar." The man blessed, and Elanin wasted no time following the man she now knew as Hadvar. They quickly passed the mangled corpse of the boys father, a gaping hole was through his midsection from where the dragons talon had impaled him. Sightless eyes stared accusingly at the sky, and a great shadow momentarily eclipsed the sun. The dust beneath them began to swirl from the draft of the dragons wings as it dove close, and Elanin felt the wind from each wingbeat as it drew closer.

"Stay close to the wall!" Hadvar shouted, grabbing her and bringing her close to the wooden wall at their left. Her head jarred painfully against the stone, and she opened her eyes to see a man standing atop a short staircase before them, his bow drawn. The wall shook as the dragon landed, perching, quite literally, just above her head. Jaw dropping, she could only watch as it roasted the bow wielding man alive, transforming him into nothing more than a shriveled, blacked corpse. Oddly, the sight that had repulsed her before did nothing now.

"Quickly, follow me!" Hadvar shouted, recovering quickly with experience. Numbed with shock, she did as she was told, stumbling through the shattered remains of a home and emerging out onto the open street, where the few surviving men were waging a losing battle. One man lay on the dirt in a pool of his own blood, another tried hopelessly to stem the glow from a gash on his chest.

"The bleeding won't stop, the wounds too deep!" Age heard the man cry in desperation as they approached.

"Tell my family I fought bravely..." The dying man whispered, though none but Elanin seemed to hear as the battle waged on.

"Soldiers! Retreat into the keep! We're leaving" Tullius ordered, and the few men within earshot beat a hasty retreat to the main tower.

"It's you and me prisoner, stay close!" Hadvar shouted, taking the lead as the dragon swooped down once more, incinerating a line of guards. Charred and bloodied bodies lined their path, but Elanin kept her eyes forward, desensitized by her own need to survive. Passing through a stone archway, they all but ran into Ralof, who was now wielding an iron war axe and sporting several new blood stains. "Ralof!" Hadvar barked, screeching to a halt with Elanin at his side. "You damned traitor! Out of my way!"

"We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time." Ralof replied calmly, though he hefted his axe to show he was not afraid to test it.

"Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovengarde!"

With that, the two men each went a different way, both of them calling out for her to follow them.

Perhaps it was chance, perhaps it was fate, perhaps she just went for the one who seemed closest, but that split second decision determined the rest of her life.

Panting with exertion, she followed Ralof into the keep.


	3. Chapter 3

Alright, I take a fair amount of artistic liscence with this chapter in the battle scenes, so be warned...

As always, thanks to SpecialAgentOrange for your amazing reviews and crits!

Skyrim (C) Not me

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><p>As soon as Ralof sealed the door, Elanin collapsed onto her hands and knees, relishing in the chance to finally catch her breath. A thin layer of sweat and ashy grime coated her entire body, but she did not notice or care in her current state. She was alive, in spite of everything, and all because of a dragon. None of it seemed remotely real or possible. Perhaps this was all a dream, even the journey, and she was still sleeping in her silken bed at the family estate...<p>

"We'll meet again in Sovengarde, brother..."

A mournful whisper made her look up, and she saw Ralof stopped over a corpse. Still panting, she got to her feet, walking over as the Nord offered a prayer over his deceased comrade. Elanin stared in a disgusted awe at the corpse, her eyes fixed on the gash across the mans temple. Ralof looked up to acknowledge her presence, standing as he finished his prayers.

"Looks like we're the only ones who made it." He observed, still somewhat out of breath himself. "That thing was a dragon, no doubt."

"I take it they're not common in Skyrim?" Elanin quipped, naturally snarky attitude rising to the surface in her foul mood. Ralof found some amusement in the comment regardless, letting out a breathless laugh in spite of everything.

"Heh, not since a few thousand years ago, no. The stories say that they were meant to return at the end of time." He shuddered, though Elanin merely raised a brow at the Nordic superstition. "Regardless, we need to escape. You can take Gunjars gear, he won't be needing it anymore." Elanins eyes went wide at the mere suggestion, and her tone was heavy with disbelief.

"Taking gear? From a corpse?" Ralof shrugged.

"No shame in taking a fallen friends axe."

"I... If there is no other option..." Elanin said, shaking her head in disgust. Bending down by the corpse, she removed the mans armor, sliding off his boots as well. Her face flushed at the sight of his small clothes, and she turned away as soon as she had the armor in hand. "Do you mind?" She snapped, and Ralof was momentarily taken back by the order.

"Oh, of course..." He fumbled, turning his back to her so she could change. Not trysting the man, she kept a close eye on him as she removed the scratchy top, sliding on the sweaty smelling armor. It fit well enough, though it was a little baggy on her thin elven frame, and the boots were notably loose. _Look at yourself Elanin, a high elf, clad in the armor of a barbarian... How far you've fallen._

"I won't be needing the axe." She declared, leaving it where it had fallen. Ralof turned at the statement, a look of puzzlement on his features. Holding up her hands, Elanin generated a quick burst of flame to demonstrate her skills. "I am trained in both swordplay and magic, I need only what I am accustomed to." Ralof seemed genuinely impressed at the display.

"You have experience then?"

"Training, the best gold can buy." Elanin proudly declared, though Ralof only chuckled.

"An aristocrat then? I had you figured for one, elf." Her jaw went slack at the brush off, but he paid her no mind, going over to test one of the iron doors. "Now then, let's see if we can find a way out of here..." Clenching the handle, he gave the door a shake, but it held fast and strong. Muttering a curse, he turned and went to the other door, testing it's hold and finding it to be equally solid. "Damn, both locked, let's see if there's a key-"

"Get that gate open soldier!"

"Imperials!" Ralof hissed, hugging the wall beside the door and gesturing for Elanin to do the same. She did as she was bid, but did not fully understand why such action was needed. As soon as Ralof hefted his axe, however, she understood. "Give them a blast of your magic when I give the command... " Ralpf whispered just loud enough for her to hear, the sound of the imperials footsteps growing louder with their approach. "I'll take care of the rest."

"What? But I've never-"

"You want to end up back on that chopping block?" Ralof hushed, not being able or needing to continue as the Imperials reached the door. A clanking from the locking mechanization slid the door upwards, and only a mere moment passed before Ralof gave a stiff nod to signal. Biting her lip, Elanin summoned her magic, jumping out into the door frame and right into the path of the two imperials. The two, a captain and a soldier, froze in shock just long enough for Elanin to catch their expressions before she let loose a blast of flame.

The pair screamed as the fire engulfed their faces, catching on the fabrics of their armor and burning only as magical fire could. True to his word, Ralof charged past her, lifting his axe and letting out a battle cry as he cut down the soldier with a crushing blow to the armor gap in his neck. The man went down, but did not die, letting out gurgling cries of agony. The officer made an attempt to resist in spite of her burns, but was not fast enough. Ralof buried his axe into her unprotected forehead, digging the weapon deep into her brain. Like a doll, she went limp, sightless eyes rolling back as she fell to the floor. With one last swift movement, Ralof finished the dying man, driving his whetted axe into the back of the mans exposed neck and severing his spinal cord. Catching his breath, Ralof looked back up at her, his face and chest spattered with blood.

"That's that..." He said, casually wiping away the blood on one of the corpses. "Now let's see if one of them has a key..." Elanin watched dumbly as he rifled through the bag of the officer, still over whelmed at what she had just witnessed. Where did a man learn to kill like that? Without hesitation or remorse, without a care? It was unnatural.

"Ah! Here we are!" He cried with satisfaction, producing a black iron key. He made a move to stand, but stopped midway, pulling the sword from the officers sheath. Standing, he tossed it to Elanin, who caught it with ease in spite of her shock. "You said you had training with swordplay, right? You'll need it." Without another word, he went back to the opposite door, fitting in the key and opening it. "Come on, that dragons still out there. We need to find a way out of here." Elanin followed, sword in hand, going through the door just as the tower gave a rumble in time to a muted roar.

"Would you mind telling me where we'll be heading after all of this?" She questioned, picking her way down an old and decrepit staircase.

"I'm afraid I can't, not until we're clear of this mess." Ralof responded, flashing a grin over his shoulder. "If I die before we get out of here, I don't want you making trouble for my friends. I'm afraid I just don't trust you yet, elf." Elanin muttered a "likewise" underneath her breath.

"So it's within my best interests to keep you alive?"

"Pretty much."

Elanin scoffed, but inwardly admitted her surprise at the Nords surprising intellect. Stepping onto the lower level, they made to turn down the hall, though they had not gone two steps before another rumble sounded from the tower. Unlike the last, this one simply did not die down, and instead turned into a crackling as heaps of dust fell from the ceiling.

"Get back!" Ralof screamed, grabbing her arm and pulling her back just as the ceiling caved in. Chunks of masonry larger than she was rained down, crashing to the floor and sending up blinding clouds of dust. The collapse lasted but a moment, and left a pile of debris that reached up to the ceiling. Small pebbled clattered down as the last of the dust settled, and they were both left staring at a now impassable tunnel.

"Damn..." Ralof observed, testing one of the stone chunks and finding it to be stuck tight. "Guess we won't be going that way. Let's try that side passage." Following his lead, Elanin opened the door to their left, finding it to be open. With Ralof just behind, she stepped inside, and her senses were almost overwhelmed by the aromas of countless herbs and potions. A storeroom, freshly stocked by the looks of the dangling rabbit and thrush carcasses. The mere sight drew a rumble from her stomach, and she was reminded that she didn't even know the last time she had eaten.

Thoughts of food, however, were immediately pushed to the back of her mind when she caught sight of another pair of Imperial soldiers, and they caught sight of her.

"Prisoners!" One shouted, and they both drew their swords. Pushing her aside, Ralof took out his axe, charging ahead and locking weapons with the first officer. The other went right past him and straight for Elanin, his sword drawn and his shield up in defense. Though her heart hammered, Elanin kept herself calm, going back to her years of training and taking a defensive stance. As fluid as water, she parried the mans sweeping blow, using his momentum against him and sidestepping his charge. Turning on his heels, the man snarled with rage, thrusting his sword at her abdomen for a killing blow.

Elanin reacted on instinct, having practiced for such a move many times before. Timing it perfectly, she blocked the hit, locking their swords and sending his flying with a simple flick of her wrist. Not pausing, she slashed the blade across his throat, sending forth a spurting fountain of blood that drenched her hands. The spattering of the hot blood across her front snapped her back to reality, and she could only watch as the man clutched his gushing throat, making a sound like screaming underwater. The life faded from his eyes, and he slumped into the pool of blood on the floor.

_My first kill..._ Elanin told herself with horror, looking down at the blood glistening on her hands. The liquid had lost it's warmth, and now only chilled her skin and soul.

"Not bad, elf. Didn't think you had it in you." Ralof complimented, standing over the equally bloodied officer. "It will get easier with time, trust me." Elanin only stood silently over the corpse, barely registering that he was there. Used to such reactions from unseasoned recruits, Ralof knew it would be best just to get her moving again. Giving her arm a small tug, he spoke in an encouraging tone. "This looks like a storeroom. Let's see if there aren't any potions or supplies." Unable to think, she only nodded dumbly, allowing herself to be led over to the barrels. Popping off the lids of the barrels, they rifled through, though most were empty save for one.

"Health potions." Elanin recognized, reaching down an pulling up the three tiny ruby bottles. They were minor potions, but she could still feel the restorative magic pulsing within. A magic and stamina potion were within as well, and they were all put in a small leather pouch found by Ralof.

"We'll be needing all of these, but let's see if we can't find any more." Leaving the bodies behind, they moved farther into the storeroom, finding it to have mostly been picked clean save for a few more potions. Some bread still cooking near the hearth was quickly devoured by them both, but Elanin found that it only amplified her hunger rather than satisfying it. "There'll be some vittles waiting for us once we get out of here." Ralof assured, just as much to himself as Elanin. They left the storeroom and entered another winding hallway, going down the stairs for a short while before even further sounds of combat echoed from farther in.

"Sounds like battle, let's go!" Ralof declared, charging down the stairs without any further thought or hesitation. Elanin followed after, though she kept a ways behind, not wanting to have to add another to her list of lives taken.

The stairs led them right into the heart of the fray. Two Stormcloaks were locked in combat with two imperials, both sides appearing evenly matched as they clashed in the tight confines of the stone room. Ralof wasted no time attacking the nearest imperial, a burly man wielding a hefty axe, double teaming him with the aid of the other male Stormcloak. The other Imperial, a Mage, was locked in tense combat with the female Stormcloak, keeping her at bay with bursts of electricity. In spite of everything, Elanin scoffed at his sloppy and unprofessional technique. His bolts were clumsy and flitted quickly after firing, doing little more than singeing his attacker. Clearly, the man had never seen a day of proper instruction. More out of her natural desire to show up than to protect the struggling soldier, Elanim began to well up a substantial amount of mana.

Muttering an incantation under her breath, she formed the raw magic into crackling electricity, and the air around her smelled strongly of ozone. She then balled up the resulting force, throwing it forward in a brilliant arc of lighting that shot over the heads of the dueling combatants and struck the petty Mage square in the chest. He was thrown back into one of the cages, slamming against the steel doors and spasming violently as he fell. The man quivered until at last he lay still, smoldering and smoking in his charred armor. The nord he'd been fighting turned with shock to the source of the lighting, staring open mouthed at the now panting Elanin, who had used a significant amount of her mana to fuel the attack. Just then, Ralof and the other Stormcloak finished cutting down the other Imperial, and Ralof was quick to get introductions out of the way.

"You two all right?" The female Nord, wielding an iron blade that would have been to heavy for most men to wield, responded to the question with a sharp one of her own.

"By Talos Ralof, a high elf? And a Mage to boot? You really that desperate for back up you'd risk a knife in the back?" She growled in a thick accent, glaring hotly at Elanin.

"Relax Reyda..." Ralof assured, lifting Elanins blood stained sword as evidence. "She's as much a rebel as you and I. Killed an imperial right im front of me. And she saved your sorry hide, didn't she?" Elanin snapped her hand down from Ralofs grasp.

"I am no rebel Nord, and you would do well to remember it." Ralof merely shrugged, looking back to his comrades.

"She's an ally for now, at the very least." Reyda let out an aggressive "humph", but said no more on the matter. His tone became more serious, and he addressed both of them with a tone of restrained hopefulness. "Have either of you seen Ulfric? We haven't come across any sign of him."

"Not since the dragon attack. It's likely he found another route." The other Stormcloak, a burly looking dark haired Nord spoke up. "We were finding our way through the keep when we ran into this lot." He shook his head in disgust, looking about the room with restrained malice. "And they call us savages..." The comment drove Elanin to take a look around, and she was mortified by what she saw. Every inch of the floor was coated in blood, and spatterings of stains both old and new decorated the walls. Chains, rusted with age and use, dangled from the ceiling in tangled clumps, swinging in just the faintest breeze that flowed through the rooms. Twisted instruments, scattered by the earlier fray, lay gleaming on the floor amongst blood they had likely helped spill. To complete the image, a grimy skeleton dangled from bonds on the wall, and a fresh corpse lay curled in the corner of one of the cages. A sickly sweet odor hung over it all, and Elanin felt her eyes watering.

A torture chamber. An Imperial torture chamber. By all the gods...

"You two had best come with us." Ralof ordered, likely finishing up a conversation that she had heard none of. "We can better face the remaining resistance together." The two consented, but Ralof stopped to take note of one final thing. "First, let me take a look in that cage..." He looked over at the corpse Elanin had previously taken note of. "Not a Stormcloak, that's for sure. Poor sod was probably just a rebel sympathizer. Regardless, he won't be needing that gold any more." Testing the bards and finding them to be locked, he turned back to the group. "Anyone know how to pick locks?"

"If it's simple enough, I know the spell." Elanin declared, though her knowledge only earned her more stiff glares from Reyda. Stepping forward, she kneeled beside the lock, trying to recall her alteration lessons. Remembering the proper incantation, she set her hands on the lock, tapping into her depleting mana reserves to fuel the spell. A pink glow settled over the lock, and the simple mechanics clicked into place with ease with the appropriate guidance. The lock snapped open in less than a moment after Elanin finished her work, and though her brow beaded with sweat from so much spell casting, she turned with pride to the others.

"Great, grab anything valuable and let's go!" Ralof ordered, taking the others with him and setting off once more. Letting out an impatient "humph", Elanin ignored her hurt pride, muttering to herself as she picked up the scant pieces of gold.

"Barbarians, they simply don't recognize true skill..." She paused to grab a spell book within the mans pocket, even though she already knew the spell in question. _Could be worth something regardless..._ Taking off down the narrow hallway after the group, she passed several locked cells, some of which still contained the rotting remains of their inhabitants. _To think the Empire capable of such atrocities... Surely the Thalmor didn't know of this? Elves would never stand for such things._ Catching up with the others, she followed down a narrow stairwell, coming into a room that smelled of mold, dust and decay. Rusty cages were scattered all about, and Elanin could only stare wide eyed in horror at the remains of the occupants. The more experienced soldiers simply ran ahead, heedless of the toothy grins on all sides.

A bashed in wall led through a windy natural passage, which was lit through burning torches on all sides. They had just about reached the end when Ralof motioned for them to stop, and the two other warriors immediately did as they were bid. She opened her mouth to question their halt, she was immediately silenced by a commotion from the next room.

"Our orders were to wait for General Tullius to arrive!"

"I'm not waiting to be killed by a dragon! We need to pull back!"

"Just give Tullius some time..."

Imperials, and a lot of them. Holding a position as well, meaning that they were expecting trouble, unlike the unprepared pairs they'd been running into so far. The thought made her blood run cold, but her companions kept their cool, planning an attack in hushed tones and speaking as if she was not even there.

"About three by the sound..." Ralof noted, standing closest to the door that opened to the next room. "Can't tell for sure with the echoes, but I'd say we're about even. Best chance is to rush them and rely on surprise." There were nods of consent from the other two veterans, but Elanin only stared forward with mute disbelief. They were going to attack? But what if they were outnumbered? What if-

"DOWN WITH THE EMPIRE!" The synchronized battle cry tore from the throats of the soldiers as they charged, eyes wild with the thrill of battle as they fell upon their foes. Elanin could only stumble after them, watching in open mouthed awe as they scattered and threw themselves on their terrified foes. She cast panicked glances around the cavern, which appeared to be a mix match of natural geography with man made installments thrown in. Stacked brick pillars stood side by side stalagmites, and a naturally made walkway above a small stream was made complete with a wooden bridge leading to the other side of the cavern. The small battle raged on the lowered section of the space, each soldier locked in combat with one of the threw imperial soldiers.

Stepping along the path, Elanin kept her eyes glued to the fray, guiding herself forward with her sense of touch. She had just reached the far side of the cavern when the Stormcloaks began to gain the upper hand, striking down one of the Imperials and teaming up on the remaining two. With a kind of fascination, she watched it all unfold, so focused on the frat she didn't even hear the two sets of footsteps gaining on her.

_Criiiiik..._

But she did hear the drawing of their bows, and reacted in just enough time to duck the hit. Dropping to the floor, she heard the flitting of the arrows whizzing past the same spot her skull had occupied not a moment before. Snapping to the source, she saw two imperial archers, each fitting another arrow for their next shot. For a moment, she thought herself done, until, from her vantage point on the floor, she saw what they were standing in. Oil! Spilled from the lamps above, no doubt. It was perfect, and she had only one shot to make it work. Tapping into what remained of her mana, Elanin willed a weak fire into existence, tossing it forward in a pathetically weak fireball.

The flame hit the oil pool as little more than a spark, but it ignited the liquid into a raging inferno. The flames engulfed the archers, swallowing them whole in a haze of heat so intense Elanin had to shield herself from the blast. The roar of the flames intermingled with the screams of unfathomable agony of the men as they roasted alive, and only lasted for a few moments as the fire greedily ate up its fuel. Only when she felt the air around her cool did Elanin dare to look up, uncovering her face and looking upon the destruction she had wreaked. The stone still smoked from the heat of the flames, and amidst the heated stone lay two charred bodies, their features now an indiscernible charred mass.

"Not bad..." A voice commented above her, and she lifted her head to see Ralof standing above her. He offered a hand, but she refused it, standing on her own power and looking over the damage.

"You two go on ahead." Reyda called up from the lower level. "We'll stay here and hold the position in case others come through."

"Very well, Talos guide you." Ralof called back to them, and the two others repeated the blessing. The exchange caught Elanim quite off guard. Wasn't Talos worship banned by the Empire? You could be fined for merely mentioning the false gods name, imprisoned if you were found guilty of worship. Knowing better than to point that little fact out, Elanin followed Ralof past the charred bodies, entering a stone tunnel that dead ended in a drawbridge.

"Let's see what this does..." Ralof commented, pulling down a lever adjacent to the bridge. His muscles tensed as he gave the rusted equipment a strong pull, the rusted metal grating as it slid backward. With a grunt, he managed to pull the mechanism back fully into place, and a loud "ca-chunk" sounded from within the walls. The bridge fell forward over the chasm, settling with a loud, rattling bang in the stones on the far side. Eager to move on, Elanin tested the boards with a one leg, settling her weight on the wood and finding it to hold steady. It was likely a fairly new addition to the fort, built to close off a choke point on case of invasion.

They both set off over the bridge, and quickly found themselves in a fully natural cavern, complete with a small waterfall and stream. Stepping down the small stairs, the last sign of any kind of man made intervention on the area, they heard yet another loud rumble. Elanin immediately recognized the familiar shaking, turning just in time to see yet another collapse. A boulder fell from the ceiling, smashing the once sturdy bridge to timbers as the tunnel was sealed off by other falling debris.

"Guess we won't be going back that way..." Ralof said, stating the obvious as he peered over the edge, whistling at the horse sized boulder laying amongst the smashed boards. "I guess we're lucky it didn't cone down on top of us. Never mind, better push on, the others will need to find another way out." Internally taking note of his willingness to abandon his comrades (but not questioning it) Elanin followed him, going by the natural stream. Sunlight filtered in through holes in the ceiling, and all she could do was stare at them longingly as they pushed down a downhill slope into a less spacious passage.

"Hmm... This doesn't go anywhere..." Ralof said as they found the stream dead ended, carving underneath the stone. Elanin rolled her eyes in growing annoyance at the mans habit of pointing out the obvious. He pointed down the side trail, speaking with a fair amount of certainty. "Guess we'd better try this way. I'll take the lead." Growing antsy in the confined spaces, Elanin was more than willing to let him lead, following behind at a steady pace. Crinkling her nose in disgust, she kept a clear distance from the walls as they got further on, as they appeared to be coated in spider webs. By all the gods, what could leave such colossal webbings? I certainly hope the cold keeps them at bay... Reality betrayed her hopes, and she could only shudder as the webs grew thicker in spite of the decreasing temperature.

"By all the gods, how are there spiders here?" She asked, half hoping for a genuine response and half venting her fears.

"Frostbites..." Ralof murmured, fair eyes scanning the tunnel as his hand went to his weapon. "Keep for wits about you..." Elanin scoffed as they began to descend, picking her way over rocks that looked strangely like bones...

"My wits? They are only spiders. What danger could-"

_SCREEE! SCREEE!_

The ear piercing shrieks stopped her dead as they stepped into yet another cavern, this one coated from top to bottom in webbing. Strands thicker than a mans arm dangled from the ceiling above, and glossy eggs sacs lay scattered amongst swaddled corpses and grimy bones. From every corner and crevice they leapt, eight hairy legs clinging to the walls and ceiling as they sized up their prey on all sides. Both were frozen in a primeval awe as the first charged, as large as dog, eight legs skittering at an unbelievable speed. Poisoned froth spattered from it's fanged mandibles, front two legs held aloft to pin it's victim.

Ralof reacted in time, swinging down his axe as the creature drew close and slicing off one of the creatures fat mandibles, sending ichor flowing from the gaping wound. The beast hissed and screeched in rage, but was silenced when Ralof finished it with a blow to the head, cracking it's exoskeleton and smashing it's pitiful excuse for a brain. Three came the aid of their fallen brother, screeching with rage as the Nord went to meet them head on, calling over his shoulder to a still frozen Elanin.

"Fight, elf! We didn't come all this way to be eaten by bugs!" The words brought her back to reality, and her will to survive managed to overpower her instinctive fear. With a shudder if disgust, she went to meet one of the devils head on, lopping off a front limb with one easy swipe. The spiders eight beady eyes bulged in pain and rage, and it made a clumsy lunge with it's dripping fangs. Following Ralofs earlier technique of just stabbing the head, she drove her blade forward, sliding it directly between the open mandibles and deep into the squishy insides. Black liquid gushed out, accompanied by an odor that nearly made her vomit with disgust. With a sickening sucking sound, she pulled the weapon from the lifeless corpse, gagging and turning to face the next.

Two more, twice the size of the others, let out warning screeches from above. Elanin tilted back her head, blood chilling the sight of the monsters in their slimy web tunnels. They were the leaders, no doubt, and were calculating the best way to move their hulking bodies down from the high ceiling. Knowing that they were already outnumbered, a stroke of insane genius struck her mind, and she dug her fist into the leather pouch at her side. Grabbing onto a magic potion, she uncapped the tiny blue bottle, pouring the sparse contents down her throat. The liquid, imbued with pure magica, sent a rush of mana through her veins. Using it all, she willed a powerful flame into being, propelling it upwards and striking a thick gob of webbing betwixt the arachnids. The gooey substance caught fire immediately, spreading across the ceiling as the spiders halted combat, squealing in alarm.

The flames, hungry for fuel, burned fast, catching the two hulking spiders in their tunnels. The beasts caught fire immediately, shrieking in agony as their furry bodies burned alive, burning ichor pouring down as the fire ate through their armored skin. It was a terrifyingly awful sight, and Elanin could only watch, wide eyed in frozen shock, heedless of the burning chunks of web that rained down on all sides or the smoke that was engulfing the room. Fortunately, Ralof, accustomed to such terrible things, grabbed her and yanked her down the side passage just as the fire reached the floor, engulfing the entire cavern and cooking the spiders within. They ran until they met the stream once more, splashing into the cold water and coughing to clear their lungs of the thick smoke. The fire glowed in the passage beside them, but it only licked at the bare stone walls, staying safely confined in the former den of the spiders.

"Nice... job, elf..." Ralof complimented amidst his coughs. "You... keep on surprising me..." Elanin, dazed from the smoke, only nodded dumbly. How many times had she stared death in the face now? She was losing count, likely not a good sign..."Best move on... There's a strong breeze, so we're close." The very idea of being close to any open space perked Elanin up. Elves were naturally claustrophobic creatures, and the stone was beginning to weigh upon her. They got moving once more, crossing a naturally carved bridge over the water and coming immediately across an abandoned cart beside the skeleton of it's owner. Ralof rooted through the cart, unquestioning of it's purpose or story, and seemed pleased when he found a weathered satchel of gold.

"Every little bit helps..." He commented, pocketing the find. He turned to continue on, but stopped cold, dropping into a crouch. Elanin could only watch in confusion, but a hushed whisper and a gesture explained his sudden actions. "There's a bear just ahead, see her?" Elanin crouched, following his gaze to see where he was gesturing to. A black bear lay sleeping in a ray of streaming sunlight, it's furry haunches rising and falling with each breath. The animal was fat, and the countless bones littering it's lair left little question as to why.

"She's probably hibernating, so she should stay asleep. Still, I don't really want to tangle with her now, hold on..." Ralof pushed ahead, unslinging the bow on his back and drawing an arrow. He drew the bow, taking a breath to steady himself, then let it fly. There was but a moment before the arrow hit it's mark, and the beast awoke only to die as the shot embedded in it's heart. Elanin would have been lying if she said she wasn't partially impressed. "There probably won't be any more, come on! The entrance should be just ahead." Not needing any further convincing, Elanin hurried ahead, uncaring of the gnawed bones that she scattered as she moved. The scent of fresh air was on the breeze, and it only spurred her on. Freedom, no matter the destination, was calling her.

One final curve in the path at last revealed a snow laden entrance, blinding white sunlight pouring through to obscure the view beyond. Uncaring of the potential dangers, she charged forward, leaving Ralof behind as she passed through the entrance and into the blinding light.

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><p>Now that I can get the story going, here's to hoping the next chapters have more variety. Thanks for reading!<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

And now I can cross this off my "Stories in Desperate Need of an Update" list... Sorry for the total lack of action in this chapter, to those of you who prefer a little bit of excitement. The story wil reallt be taking off soon, kinda like how it would in game, you can really start exploring once you finish the tutorial and the story really branches out. I'm having a lot of fun writing this, lot's of inspiration, so please don't be surprised if I pay this story a bit more attention that my others. I write when I get ideas, and it's as simple as that. Also, as I believe I said before, I'm changing a few things around, mostly to make the world more realistic. Take for instance the price of horses versus the price of the carriage. 1000 gold for a horse and only 20-40 for a ride? That doesn't really work outside the confines of the game, and neither does the travel time, hence why it takes weeks to cross Skyrim in this story and only half and hour in game.

Skyrim and all it's awesomeness (C) Bethesda

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><p>The blinding rush of late afternoon sunlight and cold mountain air over her skin was euphoric.<p>

Though she was blinded by the light for a few moments, Elanin adjusted quickly, her vision returning and the view before her becoming clear. Snowy pine trees bordered her on all sides, and a winding path stretched down the mountain. She could only gasp in awe as her eyes wandered further, taking in the incredible and vast landscape before her. Mountains acted as the natural horizon line of her view, stretching high into the heavens with their cloud kissed peaks. A glistening lake lay in the shadow of the nearest mountain, bordered on all sides by lush green pine trees. It was enough to leave her at a loss for words. What she had been expecting was craggy peaks and gnarled plant life eternally encrusted with ice. Instead, here before her was a land that had embraced it's chilly climate and it's hard way of life, turning itself into a thing of beauty. She almost had to admit that maybe some of her preconceptions about the land had been wrong.

"Get down!"

That is until Ralof tackled her roughly to the earth, pinning her to the ground beside a massive boulder. Her face hit the damp earth with a painful thud, and she had to wrestle her head up to attempt a rightfully angry tirade.

Until a an ear splitting roar stopped her cold. From her vantage point, she could watch with horror filled eyes as the dragon passed overhead, leathery wings cracking the air as it flew. It did not notice them, going over at a speed unrivaled by any man or beast and angling upward. She and Ralof sat up, keeping cover behind the stone as they watched the creature turn towards a nearby mountain, flapping quickly and rising out of sight.

"Looks like he's gone for good this time." Ralof concluded as soon as the beast had vanished. Standing, he took a few steps down the path, letting Elanin pick her now muddied self up and keep pace. Dusting herself off as best she could, the elven maiden hurried after the Nord, keeping pace down the rather steep mountain trail. "No way to know whether anyone else made it out alive. But this place will be swarming with Imperials soon. We'd better clear out of here."

"Why? Are you wanted?" Elanin questioned, though she immediately went red faced at the obvious response to the question.

"I wasn't in line for the block by choice, elf." He responded with sarcasm, though he grew serious immediately afterwards. "You're just as much a criminal as me in the Empire's eyes now, just for wearing that armor. If they saw us now, they'd arrest us both again." Her eyes dropped down the the blood spattered armor, and a pulse of unnatural fear went through her blood. A criminal? Her? By the Eight, the very thought! Hunted by her own, no less, what would her father say?

"My sister Gerdur runs the mill in Riverwood, just an hour up the road. I'm sure she'd help us out." Ralof commented, not noticing her rather distraught state as he marched ahead. "You'd best stick with me, el-" He halted mid-sentence, catching himself and asking with as much politeness as he could. "I never did get your name, nor were we properly introduced. I am Ralof of Riverwood, as you seem to already know. Might I know your name?" He halted on the path, offering a hand to shake. Elanin only stared for a moment, them took his meaty palm into her rather dainty hand.

"Elanin, second born of house Tiani."

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><p>By the time the mill came into sight, Elanin was more exhausted than she had ever been or ever thought she could be. The knowledge that the journey was over did only a little to lift her spirits, as the stone and timber homes looked far from comfortable. Falling into step behind Ralof, she allowed the unfailing Nord to take the lead, as his pace had only quickened as they had gotten closer. A large, elevated guard post ran over the main road into town, though only two unwary guards watched from the protected position. <em>Clearly not a town that sees many travelers...<em>

"Looks like nobody here knows what's happened yet." Ralof noted, breaking their rather lengthy silence. "Come on, Gerdur's probably working in her lumber mill." He pushed on ahead, walking with the smoothness of familiarity. Elanin only wished she could feel such ease, as the eyes of the few townspeople weighed heavily upon her. High elves, and the elven people in general, were far from welcome in these lands, as she knew. The armor she was wearing didn't seem to help either, but at least none acted upon their apparent suspicions, letting them pass in peace. An old woman's bickering quickly caught her attention at the mention of a dragon, though a young man she assumed to be the son tried only to silence his "crazy" mother. They turned away from the main road, passing a smoking forge and turning on to a short, rickety bridge to the mill just off the river banks. The mill, a fairly large structure built of solid stone and thick timbers, was clearly in active operation. The wheel turned smooth and quick on the rapid current, and Elanin could see movement by the blades at the top. They moved on past a pile of trees ready for chopping, and Ralof cast his eyes about in searching. Elanin could only stare in fascination as the man in the mill lifted a hulking trunk onto his shoulders, muscles bulging as he shifted the load into the saw with ease.

They rounded the mill, and, looking up the path, Elanin saw a woman chopping wood. So absorbed was she in her work that she didn't even notice their approach, not until Ralof called in a cheerful tone.

"Gerdur!"

The woman halted mid swing, looking up from her task and dropping her axe with surprise. A beaming smile lit up her features, and she rushed forward without pause. Arms thrown wide, she enveloped Ralof in an embrace, responding with joy.

"Brother! Mara's mercy, it's good to see you!" She pulled back, and Elanin could only marvel at their similarities. Same fair skin, same blue eyes and blond, braided hair, even their hardy build was identical. She spoke with an equally Nordic accent, her tone tinged with worry as she ignored Elanin completely. "But is it safe for you to be here? We heard that Ulfric had been captured..."

"Gerdur..." Ralof soothed, long having grown used to such worry from his sibling. Gerdur ceased her questioning, but listened intently as he continued. "Gerdur, I'm fine. At least now I am." The last bit drew a look of alarm from the Nordic woman, and she began to question once more. Elanin, for one, was getting a little tired of being ignored so completely, but she allowed the conversation to continue for the time.

"Are you hurt? What's happened?" For the first time she noticed Elanin, turning to the elf with a look of confusion and surprise. "And who's this? One of your comrades?"

"This is Elanin." Ralof introduced for her, continuing on with a smile. "She's not a comrade yet, but she is a friend. I owe her my life, in fact." Elanin frowned strongly at the "yet", but no one seemed to notice as Ralof continued. "Is there somewhere we can talk? There's no telling when the news from Helgen will reach the Imperials..."

"Helgen?" Gerdur repeated, her voice laden with surprise. "Has something happened?" She caught herself, taking on a serious expression. "You're right. Follow me." Cupping one hand beside her mouth, she called up to the mill, struggling to be heard over the din of the saw. "Hod! Come here a minute! I need your help with something."

"What is it woman? A gruff voice called out as the gears went silent. A sweaty and wood chip coated man appeared on the edge, his face disgruntled as he continued. "Is Sven drunk on the job again?" Gerdur let out a sound of frustration, guiding them over to a broad tree stump as she called back once more.

"Hod. Just come here." There was a grumble from the man, but he quickly changed his tone once he caught sight of the new arrivals.

"Ralof! What are you doing here!" He shook his head, disappearing from view as he called out to them. "Ah, I'll be right down..." Elanin followed as Ralof settled on a huge stump beside the river, letting out a sigh of weariness as he did do. She was momentarily reminded of her own weariness, but didn't have time to dwell on it as a newcomer ran up to greet them. A little boy, likely having seen no more than his thirteenth winter, ran beside the largest, furriest dog Elanin had ever seen. The boys familiar blond hair and blue eyes left her little doubt of his family bonds even before he reached them.

"Uncle Ralof!" He cried, stopping just before his uncle and proceeding to babble faster than most could understand. "Can I see your axe? How many Imperials have you killed? Do you really know Ulfric Stormcloak?" A chastising hush from Gerdur silenced any further questioning from the boy.

"Hush, Frodnar. This is no time for your games." She pointed back the way the boy had come. "Go and watch the south road. Come find us if you see any Imperials coming." The little boy deflated, speaking with childish pleading.

"Aw, mama, I want to stay and talk with Uncle Ralof!" Ralof, for his part, seemed amused by the boys antics.

"Look at you, almost a grown man! Won't be long before you'll be joining the fight yourself." Frodnar puffed out his chest at the praise, quickly changing his tone about his previous assignment.

"That's right! Don't worry, Uncle Ralof, I won't let those soldiers sneak up on you!" At that, he turned heel and ran back to the road with his dog at his heels, passing Hod on the way. The exchange left Elanin thoroughly gobsmacked. Sending children to keep watch? Was life here really so short that you were grown as soon as you could walk? Clearly some of her preconceptions hadn't been so wrong after all... Having approached, Hod spoke directly to them, dusting off his palms as he did.

"Now Ralof, what's going on? You look pretty well done in." As if a switch had been flipped, Ralof let out a weary sigh, losing the vigor he had previously shown so strongly.

"I can't remember when I last slept..." Elanin narrowed her eyes, thinking back to everything that had taken place in the recent scope of her memory. She had been captured unaware with Ralof, so perhaps this explanation could be as enlightening for her as it was for the others. "Where to start? Well, the news you heard about Ulfric was true. The Imperials ambushed us at Darkwater crossing. Like they knew _exactly_ where we'd be. That was... two days ago, now." The revelation made Elanin jump with surprise. Two days? That was how long she'd been out? Surely it had been no more than a few hours? On a subconscious whim, she touched the scar on the side of her temple, wincing at the memory. Any harder, and she likely would have died... "We stopped in Helgen this morning, and I thought it was all over. Imperials had us lined up to the headsman's block and ready to start chopping."

"The cowards!" Gerdur spat in rage, clenching her fists. The very memory made Elanin tense. The image of that simple stone block, stained red with the blood of countless individuals, would never leave her mind.

"They wouldn't dare give Ulfric a fair trial. Treason, for fighting for your own people! All of Skyrim would have seen the truth then." Ralof snarled, going off on a mild tangent. He continued after a moments pause, his tone growing rather hushed. "But then... out of nowhere... a dragon attacked..." His sisters eyes grew wide with terror, and there was not even a hint of doubt in her voice as she spoke.

"You don't mean a real, live..."

"I can hardly believe it myself, and I was there." Ralof continued, nodding. "As strange as it sounds, we'd be dead if not for that dragon. In the confusion, we managed to slip away." His voice became grieved, and he asked with reluctance. "Are we really the first to make it to Riverwood?" Gerdur nodded gravely.

"Nobody else has come up the south road today, as far as I know." Ralof sighed, but continued on, his head hanging in weariness.

"Good... Maybe we can lay up for a while. I hate to put your family in danger Gerdur, but..."

"Nonsense. You and your friend are welcome to stay here as long as you need to." She offered a hand to her brother, lifting him to his legs. "For now, let me show you to the house. It's getting late anyway, and you both look like you could use food and rest."

"If it isn't too much to ask." Ralof said, his tone grateful and weary. Gerdur only smiled at him, sending her husband off to gather their son and leading them back through the village.

"I told you my sister would help us out." Ralof proudly declared as they went, though Elanin was too eager herself for food to offer anything but a numb nod. Much had happened over the past few hours, and the thought of even a moments rest to absorb it all was welcome to her.

Even if it meant dining with barbarians.

* * *

><p>The meal had consisted of a thick stew, vegetables, and a Nordic drink known only as mead. The food was tough, tasteless, unpleasant, and thoroughly underclass.<p>

Yet she had inhaled it all.

Never before had Elanin been so hungry, and even the bloated ache in her stomach was well worth the relief. Gerdur cleared away the wooden dishes, setting them aside in a tub of water for scrubbing as she spoke with amusement.

"You two were certainly starved! Good thing Lucan got in a fresh shipment, I'll have to restock tomorrow." She turned back to them, addressing her son first. "But for now, Frodnar, clean up these dishes." The young Nord, who had been playing with the family dog on some furs by the hearth, immediately began to complain,

"But mamma-" Gerdur narrowed her icy blue eyes, and no further complaint issued from the boy, who immediately set to work. Elanin couldn't help but be impressed. She had little experience with children, but even she knew that they were not easy to tame.

"Now, let's get you two into some less conspicuous outfits. Hod? Give Ralof some of your work clothes, they should fit." She turned to Elanin, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully and speaking with less certainty. "I may have some clothes for you, Elanin, come with me." Though she doubted the woman's outfits would be anything like what she was accustomed to, Elanin followed, eager to be rid of her bloody and stinking armor. The house was just an L shaped, one room establishment so all they needed to do was round the corner to be out if sight of the men. Elanin looked about at the alien architecture, which appeared to consist of hand carved, well everything. From the fur rugs to the bed, everything appeared as though it was made personally, perhaps even several generations before.

"Here we are, old work dress..." Gerdur announced, pulling a rather wrinkled looking garment from a nearly bare wardrobe. "Should fit you fine, though it may be short." The Nordic woman spoke of their clear height difference. As, while the Altmer were far thinner than nords, they were also far taller, and Elanin had at least five inches on her. It was better than bloody armor, at least...

"If you'll just let me remove the cuirass." She said, used to undressing in the company of other women, though those had been paid servants. Though it took some work, she was able to remove the armor unaided and slip on the dress. Dropping the armor to the side, she took a moment to observe herself. The material was somewhat scratchy, but it fit well enough, though it was short as they had predicted. Her boots showed clearly beneath fabric, and Gerdur was quick to offer assurance.

"I can check in with Lucan tomorrow to see if he has anything more fitting. It should do you for the night, however." Elanin nodded, though she couldn't help but look over herself rather unhappily once more. The dress wasn't tight, but it was far from flattering, and showed her modest figure quite clearly. Perfect breeding without any perfect looks to show for it..._ Never mind it, Elanin..._ She scolded, following Gerdur to the warmth of the burning hearth._ You can buy a whole new wardrobe once you get to Uncle's..._

"Now if everything's settled, I'd like to get some rest. I've got an early morning tomorrow." Ralof announced, now wearing a faded leather work suit. Gerdur seemed surprised, but then concerned, approaching her brother and setting him on a chair beside the fire.

"Brother, are you sure? There will be Imperials everywhere by afternoon tomorrow, you should lay low-"

"I need to get out of here before they swarm the village, Gerdur. They'll search your home for sure, and I will not put you in further danger." Before his sister could interrupt, Ralof continued, not willing to hear any argument. "I'll need to search the surrounding area to see if anyone else escaped, and then I'll be going back to Windhelm. It's going to be a long journey." Gerdur bit her lip, taking a moment to respond as she gathered herself.

"I understand." She said gravely, her eyes going hard as she held back her emotion. Watching the ordeal silently, Elanin couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. Was this how most siblings behaved to one another? With love and selflessness? It was a far cry from her relationship with her own brother... They had always fought, always competed, and now he was likely gorging himself on a feast paid for with coin that was rightfully hers...

"And what of you?" Gerdur asked suddenly, bringing attention back to Elanin and shocking her out of her thoughts. "Do you have anywhere else to go?" Brightening a little at the question, Elanin realized she now had a chance to explain her situation. At the very least, they could give her directions. One of them had to know how she could get to Solitude, at least...

"I'm looking for some_one_, actually." She explained, taking on a diplomatic air as she took a seat of her own by the fire. "My uncle, Telind Seanaami. He's a nobleman who resides in Solitude, the owner of an extensive mining company. Perhaps you've heard of him?" Much to her disappointment, none of them had an answer.

"Afraid I don't know much about the nobility around here or in Solitude." Ralof replied for all of them. "Solitude is quite a distance away regardless, at least a week at best. But you said you came from money, why are you looking for him?" Elanin, feeling quite deflated now despite the warm fire before her, answered with self pitying woe.

"My father died recently. As I am a woman and he died in Cyrodil, I was not allowed to inherit what was left for me in the Will. All of our wealth is with my elder brother now..." Much to her surprise, Ralof, as well as Gerdur, stiffened in anger.

"Typical Imperials, they think the only place for a woman is below a man." Gerdur spat, her eyes blazing. Taking a quick breath to stifle her anger, Gerdur redirected the conversation, her tone becoming thoughtful. "I'm afraid we can't help you get to Solitude. Hod and I are needed here, and Ralof would be arrested on sight." Her eyes brightened with inspiration, and Elanin hung on every word. "But, there is a carriage service in Whiterun. You could be there by nightfall tomorrow if you left in the morning."

"They're not cheap though, over three hundred Septims to make a journey to the Capitol." Hod interjected, earning a glare from Gerdur. He quickly caught himself and added in a far more positive tone. "But of course, we'd be happy to offer whatever we can." Elanin crinkled her brow as she processed the information, weighing her scant options. Beggars could not be choosers, after all, and she truly had no option but to trust these nords.

"If you believe it would work. I do not have any gold of my own to pay you back though..." Elanin said, rather woefully recalling the bag of coins that was no longer in her possession. Confiscated by the Imperials, most likely.

"Think nothing of it." Gerdur assured. "I owe you my brothers life. We may not have enough gold to pay the carriage, but we can get you started to Whiterun, and I'm sure you can find the money there."_ More work? Marvelous_... "We've got some gold and supplies stored away, they're yours. You can leave in the morning with Ralof."

"If that's the case, we'd best be off to bed. Got to wake up early if we want to beat the Imperials." Ralof said, standing from his chair.

"You can have our bed, Ralof. Elanin, feel free to take Frodnars." Gerdur offered, halting any kind of objection from Ralof. "We've got plenty of furs to make something for ourselves. It's only for the night, after all." She took hold of her husbands arm, leading him toward the door. "Hod and I need to finish tending the livestock anyway. Go ahead and get settled while we're gone." The two then departed, letting in a quick blast of chilly air as they did so. Elanin shivered, her sensitive skin erupting in goosebumps at the breeze. Turning to the small bed that was to be hers, she approached tentatively, wrinkling her nose at what she saw. The "bed" was little more than a wooden base heaped with straw and assorted furs, none of which appeared the slightest bit clean. Still, she decided to test it, sitting down on the edge and finding it to be intensely lumpy. Better than the floor, at least...

She felt the prickling of watchful eyes on her side, and turned to see the Nord child staring at her with wide blue eyes. The moment she caught his gaze, the child didn't hesitate to babble out a question.

"Are you really a high elf?" He said, his tone one of awe. Elanin couldn't help but be taken aback. One of her hands went to brush her pointed ears, and she responded with a bit of biting sarcasm.

"Did the ears give me away?" The tone was lost on the boy, who only continued his prodding without pause.

"Papa says the high elves aren't very nice, that they use magic to make people do what they want. Can you use magic?"

"Well yes, but I-"

"Have you ever used it to order people around?"

"No, and I-"

"Is there a spell to make people invisible?"

"Yes. Now-"

"Can you make _me_ invisible?"

"I'm not sure that-"

"Oh! Could you make the _house_ invisible?"

"Frodnar! Leave the poor woman alone." Ralof cut in, saving Elanin from any more of the child's relentless prodding. "Elanin saved my life today, she deserves a rest." The somewhat teasing reminder shushed the boy, who then went back to playing with the half asleep dog by the hearth. Too tired to even bother with a thank you, Elanin flopped back on the lumpy excuse for a mattress. Struggling somewhat, she smoothed out the straw, working beneath the furs to find some semblance of comfort. Sleeping in such accommodations had become a fairly regular occurrence since she had left Cyrodil, but she couldn't recall one that had been this bad. Still, it was better than nothing, and she quickly felt the heaviness of deep sleep settling over her. It would only be a little longer, and then she would be back where she belonged. Wearing the finest clothes amongst the finest company, not surrounded by... by...

The sensation of something scurrying over her hand left little need to finish the thought.

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><p>Looking forward to the next few chapters, as I'll actually be able to develop Elanin more as a character once she's off on her own and not just being tugged around everywhere...<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

First and foremost, here's to all of you who read and review. You guys are what keep me going, and you know who you are. I could not write without your amazing feedback and the little kick I get every time I see my view count rise, so keep doing what you do and I'll do the same. ;)

People, you are witnessing my fastest update ever. I mean wow, I am so inspired for this story right now, I have literally just been ploughing through it. Wrote this in about five hours, and I'm still going strong for chapter six. As such, don't be surprised if my other stories get shelved for a while. I'll update them eventually, I promise! But right now, this is where the inspiration is...

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><p>'Come on then, Elanin. Rise and shine."<p>

The message and a quick shake of her shoulders roused her to a grumbling consciousness. Opening her bleary eyes, Elanin took a moment to recognize her surroundings, letting herself lie in bed for what felt like only a few moments. Rubbing her sleep rimmed eyes, she sat up once she realized further sleep was out of the question, grunting at the crick that had formed in her back. Stretching, she looked about the room, finding Gerdur and herself to be the only occupants. The older woman stood near the hearth, tending a stone slab from which a rather enticing smell was being emitted. Catching her eye, the Nordic woman gave a friendly smile.

"Almost thought I'd have to flip you off the bed. The others have gone to fetch some supplies, so it's just us for the moment." Wrapping her hands in cloth, she pulled the stone slab from the fire. A large chop of meat lay sizzling in the center, and the scent was enough to draw out a growl from her stomach. Settling the meat on a plate, Gerdur turned back to her as she began to cut it. "Figured you could use a good breakfast. Nothing like a bit of venison to start the day." Nodding, Elanin ventured over, sitting on the chair opposite where Gerdur stood and allowing herself to be served a sizable portion. The meat was definitely deer, she recognized it as having eating it before at home, though she typically ate it well done. There was a beat of awkwardness as she began to cut in to her meal, though thankfully Gerdur brought up a new topic, moving over to a chair beside the fire.

"Ah, I just recalled. I packed you a bag for your trip." She pointed behind Elanin to a leather pack beside the door. "Some vittles, as well as all the gold we could spare. It should last you a few days, enough to get you started." Elanin could only nod dumbly, cutting off a few pieces of meat and eating then with civilized grace. The meat was tough, but she was hungry, so it went rather quickly. She was nearly finished when she felt the urge to ask a question.

"I... Do not mean to sound ungrateful..," She began, and Gerdur looked up from her spot beside the fire. "But why are you doing this. You take me into your home, provide for me, yet ask for nothing in return. Why?" An unreadable look passed over the woman's face, and she bowed her head with a small smile.

"I owe you my brothers life, Elanin. I will never be able to pay that back." She explained. Elanin was humbled, for one of the first times in her life, as well as somewhat awkward. She hadn't _saved_ anyone, she had just fought her way out of the danger, killing anyone that got in her way. Speaking of which, meat didn't seem so appealing all of a sudden... Muscling past nausea, she politely pushed the rest of the dish away. The scent of cooked meat suddenly reminded her far too much of burning flesh. "It's very different in Skyrim. We are not a friendly people, but we are honorable."

The door opened suddenly behind them, and Ralof stepped in, clad in a suit of leather armor. He didn't seem at all surprised to see her up, and spoke almost casually.

"Got some supplies for the trip, and some new armor for you, Elanin." He said, tossing her a large pouch. Catching it with a bit of fumbling, Elanin looked inside, seeing the assorted pieces of leather armor in her own size. "Better than what you had yesterday, eh? These are sure to fit." Reaching in the bag, Elanin pulled out the cuirass, which jingled from the movement of it's numerous straps and fastenings. It was certainly well made, that she couldn't deny, and was clearly quite fresh.

"We asked Alvor to start them up last night." Gerdur explained. "Should be a weapon in their too." Reaching further in, Elanin pulled out an iron sword. Standing, she tested it's weight, and couldn't help but be surprised at how well it was balanced.

"Better get that armor on, I'll need to be heading out soon to beat the Imperials. I can guide you most of the way to Whiterun, only about an hours march from here." Ralof said, shouldering his own pack. "I'll wait for you at the edge of town, near the old bridge. Gerdur nodded, though her eyes softened as she watched her brother leave. There was a notable pause before she even appeared to remember Elanin was there.

"Well then, let's get this armor on you, shall we?" She said at last, and Elanin only nodded, emptying the rest of the sack and setting the pieces on the cleared table. "Put the boots on first, and I'll help you with the cuirass. I imagine you can get the bracers on yourself?" Being quite unfamiliar with such matters, she only did as she was told, slipping on the armored boots and removing her dress. The armor fit smoothly over her shoulders, and she was surprised to find the inside lined with a soft leather for comfortable use. Gerdur handled buckling the ones out of her reach, and Elanin was pleased to find that it fit her perfectly and allowed free movement even as it was tightened. Slipping on the bracers, she took a moment to look over herself as soon as the armor was on. It was well made, and her new sword fit perfectly into the latch on the side of her hip.

"Well, guess you're a real warrior now, eh?" Gerdur asked, stepping back to look her over. A warrior? Her? _Out on my first adventure..._ She mused, her mind wandering to the stories of ancient heroines the servants had read to her in her youth. "That armor should do for now, I have a feeling you'll be needing it in Whiterun." She went quiet for a moment, and then opened the door for them, allowing the cool morning air to seep in. "We had best be off, Ralof is waiting." Nodding, Elanin put on her own pack, leading the way out the door.

A grey sky, still dotted with stars, stretched out above them. Cold fog hung over the village, cloaking the mountains above them in an effect that was as eerie as it was beautiful. Sounds were muffled by the fog, and all the other villagers appeared to have yet to rise, creating a silence that was almost crushing. Walking in time with Gerdur, Elanin became quite aware of the crunching of her boots on the dirt and the tap of her sword against her thigh. Blotting out the noise, she focused her mind on other things. Three hundred septims; something that had once been pocket change to her now seemed like an insurmountable obstacle. What kind of work could she do? Would anything even be available? Such uncertainty gnawed at her gut.

"When you get to Whiterun-" Gerdur broke the silence, sending a rattling shock through her. "You had best see the Jarl." The notion surprised Elanin, who looked to see that Gerdur's expression had become almost pleading. "Riverwood is defenseless, and we need reinforcements with that dragon around... I'm sure the information would be rewarded."

"I'll speak to him." Elanin promised, though she found it hard to believe that she'd be allowed to just walk in and speak to the man in charge. It might be worth her while though, so why not give it a shot? Gerdur seemed relieved to hear her answer, and the rest of the walk went in silence. Elanin busied herself by taking in the unexpected beauty of the early morning. She had always been somewhat of a morning bird, but even sunrise of the Imperial City paled in comparison to this simple village. A few birds trilled softly in the pines, and the river flowed lazily beside them, carrying fresh water do clear that salmon could be seen pushing against the current. It was the mountains that truly completed the image though, particularly the one on their right, which stretched like a vertical stone wall into the heavens. Just looking at it made her feel tiny.

"The Throat of the World." Gerdur remarked when she caught her looking at it. "The tallest mountain in Tamriel, and home to the Greybeards. Their monastery is at the very peak, you'll be able to see it in Whiterun." Elanin could only crane her neck upwards in awe. Living at the peak of a mountain, could there be anything else as lonely as that?

"There you two are!" Ralof announced from the end of the road, leaning casually against the solid stone bridge. "I was about to head off on my own." Gerdur only smiled softly in response as they closed the gap between them, though her grief was clear just beneath her icy blue eyes.

"Just getting Elanin ready to go." Gerdur said as they reached Ralof at last. The older woman looked down at the ground as she continued, sounding far older than she just had. "You'll be going to Windhelm then?"

"Aye." Ralof replied with a nod. "I'll take Elanin to Whiterun, and then I'm off. Got a long journey ahead." There was a beat of silence, and the two siblings embraced. Feeling somewhat awkward, Elanin averted her eyes from the display.

"Just come back safe, alright?" Gerdur muttered, her voice tight with emotion. Taking a quick breath, she turned to Elanin, offering her hand in a gesture of friendship that she somewhat reluctantly took. "Best of luck to you as well, Elanin. Be sure to let us know when you get to Solitude."

"I will." She promised, feeling that she truly meant it.

"Best be off then." Ralof announced, wanting to keep the farewells short. "Goodbye, sister." He nodded up the path, and Elanin took her place beside him, walking in step as they made their way across the bridge.

"Brother!" Gerdur called out once they had made it halfway. Turning, they saw the woman now wore a look of fiery determination. Thumping her fist against her chest, she proudly declared. "Freedom, or Sovengarde." Smiling with pride, Ralof returned the gesture, answering somewhat more solemnly.

"Freedom, or Sovengarde."

* * *

><p>"And there it is, Whiterun. See it through the trees?"<p>

The town was rather hard to miss; a sprawling, walled in city complete with a towering castle. Looking through the well placed gap in the trees, Elanin took a moment to observe. The city was bigger than she had expected, and even the castle was certainly impressive. Thin trails of blue smoke could be seen rising clear from the chimneys against the pale morning sky, a sign that the occupants were already awake and working. Continuing down the path, she decided to take the time to ask a few questions.

"Your sister told me to speak to the Jarl, I take it he can be found in that castle?" Her voice was elevated just a pitch above normal to be heard over the falls on their right. The churning water sent up a fine must that kept them cool, at least, though the weather was still fine.

"Aye, it's called Dragonsreach, supposedly they had a real dragon there once. Jarl Balgruf is the one you need to speak to, just tell them you have information on Helgen."

"They'll let me in just for that?" She asked, walking in step beside him. Ralof chuckled in amusement, something he appeared to do frequently around her.

"Skyrim isn't like the Empire, you don't need an appointment to see the person in charge." Elanin pondered this for a moment, and then moved on to her next question.

"And what about work? What all will be available?"

"Just about anything, really. There's always need for skilled blades around these parts."

"Become a mercenary? Is that what you mean?"

"Not exactly... Just look around town, run errands. Maybe try the Companions, if you want something steadier."

"Companions?"

"A guild of honored warriors, they offer their blades in return for gold."

"Ah, like the Fighters Guild?"

"Something like that, yes."

Elanin went silent, thinking over the information. So she had options, that was good. A quick check of her pack had allowed her to count put fifty septims in her possession, so that meant only two hundred and fifty to go...

The path took a sharp dive as they went on, and the trees began to clear. Looking around, Elanin began to notice a sharp change in the scenery. Strange mossy grasses and tough looking shrubs began to replace the trees and bushes, and once they reached the bottom of the path it became clear why. They had passed, in the short span of an hour, from mountains to open plains. An open bowl stretched out before them, with Whiterun sitting just at the edge. Though her vantage point wasn't a very good one, Elanin had a feeling that the plains would stretch on for some time.

"And here is where we part ways." Ralof declared when they reached a fork in the road. Elanin stopped her sightseeing, looking at the man with a touch of alarm. He gave her a reassuring smile, offering a hand to shake. "Just follow the road past the meadery, you can't miss the opening to the city. Been good knowing you, Elanin. Hope to see you in Windhelm sometime."

"Perhaps. It has been... nice meeting you, as well." Elanin replied somewhat lamely, shaking his hand. With a final smile and a nod, the man turned and left, setting off on the path opposite hers. In her heart, she almost felt a pinch of regret to see him go. He had saved her life, albeit indirectly, and proven himself honest enough. Still, it couldn't be helped that their paths sent them two different ways. Turning, she looked down her own path, taking a breath before she began to set down it.

A gentle stream flowed beside her, and a few farms lay at it's edge. The city was certainly impressive, with an imposing wall that was built for battle. A good ten minutes passed before the opening of the city came into sight, along with the stables. With the sight, however, came an all too familiar sound; the unmistakable clangs and roars of battle. Unable to restrain her curiosity, she increased her pace, going around the crumbling wall of a farm to see the source of the fray just ahead. Though the fight was still a ways ahead, she could clearly make out the aggressor, and her heart nearly skipped a beat.

A giant, well over twice the height of a grown man, stood in the center if the field. The beast was clad in a primitive array of furs and bones, and its gray skin was decorated with a frightening show of tattoos. Clad in one of it's oversized hands was a crude hammer fitted with a small boulder as a bludgeon. It was fighting not one, but three warriors, and it was winning. One was on the ground, knocked back by a powerful kick, and neither of the others could get close enough, lest they face a crushing blow. _They need a distraction_, she told herself. _They're doomed otherwise._ Moving in closer, she tapped into her now replenished mana reserves. Concentrating, she willed the energy into electricity, crackling it about her palms and forming into a concentrated bolt. Moving within fifty feet of the fray, she took shelter behind another low stone wall and took aim, extending her arm and holding her fire until she saw an opportunity. The beast held it's head still long enough to give a bellowing roar, and that was when she struck.

The bolt of electricity flew clear and true, striking the beast in the side of it's oversized skull. It's neck snapped back from the force of impact, it's trunk like legs staggering backward from the force of the hit as it brought it's free hand to the site of the hit. Elanin smiled in satisfaction at the perfect hit; there was no way the beast could recover from such a blow, and surely now the others could finish it off.

But of course, she was wrong.

Bellowing in rage, the giant turned it's face in the direction of the shot, the left side of it's face a blackened and sizzling mess. It set it's one good eye on her, and, raising it's hammer and ignoring it's previous quarry, it charged. Covering five of her strides with one its own, the giant closed the gap between them in no time, and Elanin had mere moments to react when it was upon her. Grunting out an unladylike curse, she leapt back just as the giant swung, it's massive hammer crushing the stone wall and sending bricks flying. The ground shook from the impact, knocking her off her feet and onto the dirt in a tumble. Fumbling, she managed to draw her blade, looking up to see the giant was already going for another blow, it's hammer held high. Tumbling as fast as she could, she managed to avoid being crushed as the hammer came down, creating a crater where she had been moments before. Going on instinct, she swung her blade at the giants exposed ankle, slashing it across the exposed flesh and leaving a deep gash. The pain made the entire leg buckle, and the giant when down on one knee, knocking her over and with a wild, glancing blow of it's fist and sending her blade flying.

Locking one beady eye on her, the giant lifted it's fist in preparation to crush her in her exposed position. The creature bellowed, then stopped as an arrow seemed to grow out of it's throat. Gurgling in surprise, it brought it's hand to the wound, dropping it's hammer with a ground shaking thud. Elanin could only stare in shock as she recovered from her near death experience as battle cries ripped through the air. Two of the warriors she had seen before charged, the female digging her blade deep into the giants thigh to force it to it's hands and knees, and the man swinging a hefty blade to lop off it's head as it fell. The two actions were perfectly synchronized, and Elanin was left in a daze by the speed of it all. Only the tremendous thud of the giants body against the soil shook her to reality, and she woke to see the tremendous, headless corpse sitting before her.

Chest heaving, she looked around for her blade, hoping it had not gone far. Struggling somewhat from shock, she attempted to rise, stopping when a hand was offered to her. Looking up, she saw a woman who was the picture of what she had imagined Skyrims citizens to be. Wild red hair draped her armored shoulders, and her face was decorated with semi vertical slashes of green war paint. Her armor was animal hide accented with iron that had been embellished with green stones, though the covering was so revealing one might have hesitated to call it armor. A bow was slung over her back amongst a quiver of iron arrows, likely the same that had saved her from being crushed by the giant. Within her other hand she held Elanin's previously missing blade. Regardless of her appearance, Elanin took the offered palm, unable to stop her eyes from widening with shock at the woman's strength as she was hauled to her feet.

"You handle yourself well." She commented, returning Elanin her sword. Still somewhat shaken, Elanin sheathed her blade, only half hearing what the other woman was saying. "You'd make a fine Shield-Sister."

"I... Shield-Sister?" Elanin repeated, quite confused. The woman only smiled; clearly this was not something she had to explain often.

"An outsider, eh? Never heard of the Companions?" She asked, and Elanin felt her memory spark at the name. Hadn't Ralof suggested them to her?

"I've... heard of you. You're like the Fighters Guild, yes?"

"It is an an order of warriors. We are brothers and sisters in honor, and we show up to solve problems." Her eyes flashed somewhat. "If the pay is good enough."

"I see... I was told to look for you, actually. How could I join?"

"It's not up to me. You must speak to Kodlak Whitemane, up in Jorrvaskr." The woman crossed her arms, looking at Elanin with eyes that were practically wolfish. Though she was in no danger, Elanin gulped under the weight of the gaze. "The old mans got a good sense for people, he can look into your eyes and see your worth. If you do go to him, good luck."

Without further words, the warrior left, her companions following wordlessly behind. Elanin watched them go, looking back down to the giants corpse as they left her line of sight. Before today, giants had existed only in stories. Though to be fair, the same could be said of dragons yesterday. Still, did she want to join a group who categorized giants as "problems"? Perhaps it would be best to see what her other options were first. Shouldering her pack, she started off again, coming to the stables in no time. Powerful black horses stood within the stalls, though her eyes settled on the carriage parked just outside. The driver was talking with the owner of the stables, likely casually, as he was leaning back in the drivers seat with the reigns gripped loosely in his hands. The open back of the carriage was stuffed with packs of provisions, but no other passengers could be seen. _Just a little longer, Elanin. You'll be able to go soon_. Walking a little further, she saw a camp of Khajiit just outside the first city gate. The cat people busied themselves with tending their camp, but one, clearly the oldest among them, did his best to get her attention as she went past. Used to such tactics from merchants in the Imperial City, Elanin only walked on, paying him no mind.

_What an unusual design..._ She remarked as she passed through the gate, now finding herself on a rising cobbled path. Why would the gate not lead directly into the city? As she walked on, however, the answer became clear. Worn down stone walkways bordered the path on both sides, allowing guards to walk above and see anyone entering the city. A small but effective drawbridge near the final entrance allowed her to see clearly, the design was one of defense. Any invaders would be channeled through the highly exposed and narrow path, and would have to deal with the drawbridge as well. Such an attack would be suicide. Passing through the drawbridge, she found herself at the true gate to the city, and let out a small sigh of relief. Now she just needed to gain entry-

"Halt." A guard barked as she approached. With a pulse of alarm, Elanin did as she was told. "The city's closed with the dragons about. Official business only." Stopping, Elanin fumbled for a moment. Official? What qualified as official around here? Recalling Gerdur's request, she straightened somewhat.

"Riverwood calls for the Jarls aid." She said with as much strength and urgency as she could muster. If the guard caught her faint tremble, he said nothing of it.

"Riverwood's in danger, too? You'd better go on in. You'll find the Jarl in Dragonsreach, at the top of the hill." With that, he waved a signal to a guard at the wall above them, who nodded and pulled a lever. With the cranking of gears, the thick gate opened for her. Feeling a touch of pride, she stepped into the city. Her pace hitched as the gates shut behind her, and she let her eyes wander. Just before her was the blacksmith, where a burly man clad in Imperial armor was arguing with a woman as she tended her forge. Not bothering to listen in, Elanin looked to her left to see stairs that led to the next level of the small city. The guard had said at the top if the hill, though she couldn't see the hold from her current vantage point. Following her vague directions, she passed an inn and climbed up the weather beaten stairs, passing beneath a surprisingly well carved wooden arch as she did so. Emerging at the top, she found that Dragonsreach was now in her sight once more. Navigating through the streets, she passed through without drawing any attention, arriving, quite without intention, at what appeared to be the town square.

A thick and towering dead tree sat in the center of a small island, surrounded by tiny streams which ran through man made paths in the stone. Tilting her head at the odd sight, Elanin completely forgot it as she laid eyes on Dragonsreach once more, now towering above her at the top of a clear path. Ignoring the raving priest standing before a statue of Talos, she pushed up the stairs, unable to help being surprised by the water that flowed all around the steep walkway. While the flow was clearly controlled, she couldn't help but wonder why they pumped it _through_ the city. Taking the steep steps two at a time, she quickly arrived at the top, and couldn't help but be awed at what she saw.

The path to the door was decorated by tall, imposing archways that towered above her, though they were nothing compared to the castle. Dragonsreach was not only massive, but decorated with clear Nordic taste, with carvings of stylized dragons accenting the roof. It was like nothing Elanin had ever seen, and she couldn't help but be a little humbled as she approached. The White Gold Tower may have been far taller, but it was not nearly as imposing, being almost elegant compared to this structure. Passing through the arches, she pushed open the heavy wooden doors, which swung without a sound on well oiled hinges. Stepping inside, she was once more awed.

The ceiling towered ahead in the biggest room she had ever seen, with wooden beams stretching higher than one might think possible to support their far off burden. Intricate carvings decorated the woodwork with rune like designs, and rich carpets lined the floor. Unable to keep her gaze lowered, Elanin stared with awe at the towering structure, keeping her neck craned even as she walked. A smoky haze floated about in the sun streaming in above, and it was only when she bumped into the stairs that Elanin remembered she was not there to sight see. Climbing the stairs, she found herself facing a massive open fire betwixt two long feasting tables. At the end of the room was the throne, seated between two yellow banners, and on it sat the man she presumed to be Jarl Balgruuf, who was clearly arguing with a man that appeared to be a steward. Going around the fire, she made her way forward, so intent on her goal that she didn't hear the unsheathing of blades. She was but a few steps away from the fire when an armed and angry dunmer stepped in her path, blocking her way forward. Red warpaint accented her fiery eyes, giving her a piercing glare.

"What is the meaning of this interruption?" She growled, blades held aloft in a defensive position. "Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors." Taking a weary step back, Elanin raised her hands in a sign of submit. Clearly this woman had seen her fair share of battles, and would not be worth upsetting.

"G-Gerdur sent me." She explained, unable to choke the stammer from her voice. "Riverwood is in danger." The dunmer arched her brows in surprise, and though she didn't sheathe her blades, she did shift her demeanor.

"As housecarl, my duty is to deal with all dangers that threaten the Jarl or his people, so you have my attention. Now, explain yourself." Biting her lip, Elanin considered her response for a moment before saying carefully.

"I was told to give my message directly to the Jarl." She explained, knowing from experience that messages carried directly always stayed truest to their original intent. This did not sit well with the dunmer, however, who shifted back immediately to an aggressive stance.

"Whatever you have to say to the Jarl, you can say to _me_." She warned, red eyes narrowing suspiciously. "I'm starting to think-"

"It's alright, Irileth." A voice piped up from the throne. Elanin let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding when she saw it was the Jarl who had spoken. "I want to hear what she has to say." Without complaint, Irileth sheathed her blade, stepping aside and returning to her proper place at the left side of the Jarl. Swallowing to clear the lump in her throat, Elanin approached, making it halfway up the small flight of stairs before stopping at a respective distance.

"Now, what's this about Riverwood being in danger?" He asked, and Elanin relaxed somewhat. Dealing with other nobles was her area if expertise, after all, even if this man wasn't much of a noble beyond looking the part. He bore a circlet of gold imbued with gemstones and possessed clothes a cut above those she had seen among the commoners sure, but his complete lack of posture was what she expected from a ruling figure in Skyrim.

"A dragon destroyed Helgen. Gerdur is afraid Riverwood is next." Elanin explained, her words being greeted with expected shock from all but the Balgruuf.

"Gerdur... Owns the lumber mill, if I'm not mistaken. Pillar of the community. Not prone to flights of fancy..." The Jarl mused aloud, speaking to Elanin with a tone of restrained disbelief. "And you're sure Helgen was destroyed by a dragon? This wasn't some Stormcloak raid gone wrong?" Stifling the urge to roll her eyes, Elanin replied stiffly.

"I was there. I saw the dragon burn Helgen to the ground." Balgruuf only shook his head in disbelief, though there was clearly no doubt in his mind now.

"By Ysmir, Irileth was right!" He turned to the man he had been arguing with before. "What do you say now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?"

"My lord..." Irileth cut in respectively. "We should send troops to Riverwood at once. It's in the most immediate danger, if that dragon is lurking in the mountains-"

"The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation!" Proventus snapped in. "He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfrics side and attack him. We should not-"

"Enough!" Balgruuf roared, silencing any further argument before it could begin. "I'll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people! Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once."

"Yes, my Jarl." The dunmer said, bowing respectfully. Proventus let out a moody "humph".

"If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my duties." With that, the Imperial sulked off, leaving Elanin alone before the Jarl. The man heaved a sigh before returning his attention to her, sounding weary but grateful.

"Well done, you sought me out, on your own initiative. You've done Whiterun a service, and I won't forget it. Speak to Proventus about a reward, you deserve it." He sat back in his throne, looking her over for a moment before speaking once more. "Now... Is there anything else I can do for you?" Elanin cleared her throat, glad that she could finally get to what she had come here for.

"No, thank you. Thank you for your time though." With a nod and a polite bow, she excused herself from the mans presence, going off to speak with Proventus. A reward. Gold, hopefully, and a sizable amount at that. Perhaps this would not be so difficult after all? Stepping away from the throne, she moved after the Imperial, seeing that he was now in hushed talks with another Nord. Waiting until he had finished speaking, she approached, though the steward seemed to know her purpose before she even spoke.

"The Jarl sent you to me for a reward, I imagine?" He clipped, and and she halted in surprise. Nodding, she watched as the man let out a faint sigh, pulling a fat coin purse from his pocket. "Yes, he has an established protocol for these things... About a hundred septims should do." He tossed the bag to her, and it was with great satisfaction that she caught it and felt the weight. That much closer... "I assume you'll be going now?"

"Actually, I was wondering if you know how I could send a message to Solitude." She asked, hoping to perhaps message her uncle to give him time to prepare. Better that than just showing up on his doorstep, at least.

"Solitude? Do you have business there?" Proventus replied, raising a brow in minor interest.

"I'm trying to contact my uncle, he's a nobleman in the city." Elanin explained, not at all surprised by the way the mans eyes brightened at the revelation. Such people cared more for gold than people, after all.

"Really? Why, I should have realized, my lady. What is his name? I will hire the courier myself."

"Telind Seanaami, the owner of the HighBorn mining company."

Quite unexpectedly, the mans face fell.

"Oh, yes. I see..."

"Is... Something wrong?" Elanin asked, feeling rather confused.

"Well... Madame, it is my greatest displeasure to inform you-"

Her heart stopped cold.

"Sir Seanaami passed away last winter."

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><p>*Sigh* Spirits, what are you doing? Throwing in a plot twist already...<p>

*Looks at word count* Whoa... and I officially think this is my longest chapter yet. My gosh, the inspiration...


	6. Chapter 6

This one took a bit longer, but that's mostly because I've been quite busy with my other stories. Hoping to get some much needed updates out very soon! So for those who may be wondering, yes, RTS has not been forgotten. It's just been... neglected, as I've been uninspired. Anyway, I'm a little bit less proud of this chapter, hence why it's so short. I'm really hoping to get the ball rolling on the story soon, so expect longer and quicker updates from now on. As always, I want to thank my (constructive) reviewers, you guys make this happen!

* * *

><p>"Sir Seanaami passed away last winter."<p>

With that one simple sentence, Elanin's world came crashing down.

"I-I'm sorry?" She stammered, standing frozen to the spot.

"Your uncle passed during our last winter, I remember it well. Caused quite a sensation. The owner of Skyrim's third largest mining corporation passing without an heir to his business, and with no way to get the information to family. All of his assets were eventually claimed by some Thalmor associates of his two months back." Proventus explained casually, sounding like the conversation was no longer worth his time. There was a painful and heavy pause before Elanin could choke out a reply.

"Thank you for your time." The steward nodded politely, and Elanin turned to go. Mechanically, she went back the way she had come, stone faced and unresponsive. Showing herself out, she pushed open the doors, not even winking away from the bright sunlight as it hit her. Taking calculated strides, she went forward, completely unaware of her surroundings until she reached the stairs at the end of her path. As she nearly tripped and fell, her instincts snapped her back and away, jarring her to her new reality.

Without meaning to, she looked to the horizon. From her vantage point, she could see for miles. Before her stretched the mountains, with the Throat of the World dominating her view. Remembering Gerdur's earlier words, she trailed her eyes up the slopes, and sure enough she could make out the sharp corners of a massive man made structure at the clouded peaks. Subconsciously, she let her eyes wander further, to the plains that stretched out to her right. Tundra stretched out for what seemed to be an eternity before meeting the distant humps of mountains on the edge of her vision. Everything around her was massive, and here she was, so helpless and small. This thought finally gave form to the inevitable question.

By the Gods, what was she going to _do_?

She was an unwanted stranger in a harsh, unforgiving and foreign land. Every corner of the country was fraught with danger, and she was by no means prepared for even a quarter of it. At least before she had a goal, a way out, but now? There was nothing for her here or anywhere. No home, no family, no future. _Nothing_. The crushing force of this reality threatened to smother her right there, and she had to will herself down the stairs to keep moving. Nearly tripping over her own uncertain feet, she made it into the town square. Looking down at the ground, she felt the gravity of her situation sinking in, penetrating her soul, and her knees went weak. Staggering, she made herself go on to one of the small benches that bordered the tree, sitting down to avoid collapsing in a heap.

All around her, villagers went about their daily existence, heedless of her troubles. For once, she would give anything to be one of them. They all had futures, hopes and dreams, she had nothing. Holding her head in her hands, she wracked her usually resourceful mind for a solution. She needed a new plan, no matter how vague it may be. She withdrew from her current place and time, blotting out all sounds and sensations as she struggled to think of something. So withdrawn in her mind was she that she didn't notice the falling light, or the quieting of the hustle about her, or even the gnawing hunger in her gut as time wore on. All her energy was spent on thinking, but her brain only went in circles. There was no future for her here or anywhere that she could see. She had no home anywhere, especially not here, so what good would her gold do her now? There was nothing, nothing... Odds are she would have sat there for far longer, had a sharp voice not brought her to reality once more.

"Hey, no lollygaggin'."

Jumping in her seat, Elanin looked up to see a helmeted guard standing before her, a startlingly bright torch in his hand. Winking away from the light, she looked around in surprise to see that it had grown dark, and she was now alone save for the guard.

"You can't stay here for the night. Head to the inn or the church." He ordered, steam rising from the gaps in his enveloping helmet. Elanin stared blankly for a moment, and then stood from her spot. Trembling on stiff limbs, she nodded, hugging herself in the cold she was only now feeling.

"I... Where is the inn?" She questioned, knowing that she must have looked rather pathetic, shivering and stone faced as she was. Another puff of steam rose from the guards helmet, and his tone gave off a hint of annoyance. Still, he lifted his muscular arm to point just down the way.

"Head on down the stairs. It's the Bannered Mane." Nodding politely, Elanin excused herself. Large torches lit up the dark night as she walked along, though the flames did little to deter the cold. Goose bumps covered her delicate skin and her empty stomach protested as she went down the stairs, all serving to only add to her misery. The abandoned market was almost eerie in the night, and Elanin shuddered at the empty merchant stalls. The inn wasn't hard to spot, thanks to a large wooden sign swinging beside it's entrance illuminated by two large torches. Stepping closer, Elanin glanced at the carefully painted sign, decorated with a stylized horse and a flag bearing rider. Climbing the short stairs, she pushed the thick door open, squeezing her thin frame in to avoid letting in too much cold.

"Come on in. Just stoked the fire. Take a seat and get the cold out." A friendly voice called out, and Elanin took a moment to absorb her new surroundings. The inn was a two story structure, with the second level existing on a balcony. A warm, open fire burned in the center, with a large gap in the high ceiling to let out smoke. Only three other patrons could be seen; a heavily armored man by the fire, a woman dining at the bar, and a nasty looking Nordic woman in the far corner. A redguard servant idly brushed at the hopelessly stained wooden floor, and a bard tapped out a rhythm on a drum. None turned to even look at Elanin as she entered, and she used that to move over to the bar.

A middle aged Nordic woman, the one who had called to her earlier, scrubbed at the wooden bar with a rag. She greeted her with a warm smile, continuing to polish down the mead stained wood.

"Name's Hulda. What can I get you?" She offered, her voice thick with a pure Nordic accent.

"Do you have any rooms available?" Elanin asked, reaching into her pack and pulling out a coin purse. The woman nodded, putting her rag to the side.

"Aye, for ten gold, it's yours until this time tomorrow." Ten gold? She could stay her for a while then, maybe find something to do with herself. Counting ten coins, she handed them to the woman. Pocketing the change, Hulda stepped out from behind the bar, gesturing for her to follow. "Your room is right this way, allow me to show you." Doing as she was bid, Elanin followed, going past the warm fire to a rickety set of stairs that led to the second level. Reaching the small landing at the top, Hulda opened the doors for her, standing politely to the side. Going past, Elanin found herself in a rather cozy but drafty room. Carpets embroided with Nordic designs decorated the floor, and similarly styled pots and vases filled the few bare shelves. Wall hangings helped to keep the cracking stone foundation looking somewhat lively, though not much.

"Let me know if there's anything else you need." Hulda said politely, closing the door and excusing herself. Elanin set her pack down on the bed, taking note of the fact that it was a real bed this time, complete with a mattress and sheets. Sighing, she sat herself down, listening to the idle conversation just a little below. The bard was now piping on a flute, though she didn't recognize the tune. Reaching into her pack, Elanin looked over it's contents, pulling out a simple piece of bread to sate her hunger. Taking a bite, she chewed mechanically, not truly tasting anything in her current state. A little bit of food would hopefully settle her mind and let her think more clearly. Finishing her meager ration, she took a deep breath to clear her head, allowing her to look at her situation logically.

_I can't go home... I don't have the gold to make such a journey. It took over five hundred septims to make it as far as I did._ She thought, mulling over her situation to find all of her potential options. _I'm skilled with a blade, I could offer my talents for hire, but..._ Unwillingly, she shuddered at the thought. The thought of spending her time as a sell sword was unnerving to say the least. While it was an option, it was not one she wanted to pursue any time soon. High elves lived for centuries, which was something she had to consider. How ironic was it that her longevity now seemed to be a burden...

Perhaps joining a guild? There was a promise of both gold and a future there. If Skyrim worked anything like Cyrodil, there would be plenty of guilds for all kinds of professions. Though to be fair, Cyrodil had been the center of the empire, where trade flourished and there was plenty of gold to be made. Here? She doubted there would be such variety. Thinking over the idea made her think far less of it. After all, even if she knew where a guild could be found, how could she join? Her skills were... limited, at best. A life as a noble with a business man for a father had left with more than enough prowess as a merchant, but she had no gold to back herself up now. There was her magic, but even that was limited to basic destruction and restoration, with a bit of alteration for conventional uses. Swordplay remained her most currently viable pursuit, but she was hesitant to call herself a warrior. Subconsciously, her hand went to her holstered blade, drawing it to inspect it.

A shock of surprise passed through her at the blood staining the blade, until she recalled her much earlier battle with the giant. The dull red stain reflected deeply in her orange eyes, and she couldn't stop her heart from pumping at the memory of the battle. She would have died if it hadn't been for those other warriors.

_"We are brothers and sisters in honor, and we show up to solve problems... If the pay is good enough."_

The warrior woman's words flashing through her mind made her stop._ The Companions..._ According to Ralof, they were a steady source of employment, and something stable certainly sounded like what she needed right now. But they had been fighting a _giant_ when she had met them. Could she really call that a viable option? Life certainly wasn't it's best right now, but gods that didn't mean she wanted to _die_. A pang of displeasure filled her gut as she realized that despite it's lack of appeal, the Companions appeared to be her only viable option. She truly had nothing else she could do, nothing that was in her current range of options, at least. What she _wanted_ was to return to her old life, no matter what the trials or consequences, but what she currently _needed_ was just a way to keep herself going. The realization was not a pleasant one.

For once, and possibly the first time in her life, what she needed and what she wanted weren't the same thing.

_The Companions then._ She thought solemnly._ I'll go to them tomorrow, in... What was it called? Jorvaskr? Whatever..._ Standing, she moved her pack onto the floor, blowing out the candles to darken the room. There was no way to remove her armor without aid, so she made the decision to just sleep in it, though she removed her boots and bracers. Pushing aside the covers, she settled somewhat comfortably on the bed, listening as the activities of the other patrons decreased and quieted. Though sleep fought her, the gentle stringing of the bards lute helped quell her overactive mind, and sleep came to her tired body.

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><p><em>The twisting and winding dungeon of Helgen seemed to stretch on forever, and each passage only seemed to take her deeper into the dark and slimy bowels. Groping along the walls, Elanin struggled in the dark, her blade held in front of her as a means of defense against the crushing darkness. She had to find some way to escape; though a part of her swore that she had already done just that. Hadn't she already been here, and fought her way to freedom? If the memory was there, she couldn't recall it now.<em>

_Turning a dark corner, she found herself facing a long, semi-straight passage. A sense of elevation filled her heart when she saw a glimmer of light at the end of the path. Daylight, perhaps? Regardless, she ran to it, slipping and stumbling on the uneven and grimy stone floor. The frame of a door became cleat around the light, and she ran faster, her long legs lengthening their strides to shorten the distance between herself and her goal. Heart pounding, she entered the doorway, but forced herself to a clumsy and stumbling halt when she saw her surroundings. The light had not been daylight, bur torchlight, and she was now in a storeroom of some kind._

_"Stormcloak!" A voice called out, and she saw a lone Imperial soldier. In a panic, she looked down at herself, seeing that she was wearing Stormcloak armor._

_"N-no! I'm not-" She stammered, trying to talk reason into the man. The soldier would hear nothing of it, drawing his sword and charging. Unable to flee, she blocked the soldiers strike, and the man snarled with rage. He swung wildly at her head; ducking, she struck out with greater precision at his throat. There was a gargling scream as she dragged her blade across the soldiers exposed neck, slicing open his throat and allowing a fountain of blood to spurt forth. The hot liquid spattered her face and armor, and both she and the soldier dropped their weapons. Horrified, Elanin scrambled away from the man, watching in disgust as he collapsed to the floor, hands clutching his throat as blood gushed and spurted between his fingers. The blood began to pool immediately, spreading fast as the man lost the precious liquid at a terrifying rate. Elanin found her eyes locked on the mans face, taking in his bug eyed expression of horror. His face was becoming paler, highlighting his features with painful detail. By the gods, he was so young, no older than herself. A man as young as him should have had decades ahead of him; but because of her, he would die here and now._

_"I'm sorry..." She rasped as the man finally expired, lying still and going glassy eyed. "I'm sorry..." Turning, she ran, finding another door at the far side of the store room. She could feel the blood chilling on her face, and she frantically tried to rub it away, smearing the scarlet drops over her face. Opening the door, she fled from the corpse, though instead of finding herself in another passage, she realized she had run into the open. A fiery sky churned and boiled overhead, sending down chunks of fiery rocks, and charred corpses littered the dirt streets around her. Clouds of smoke spiraled upward from fires that ravaged the shattered wooden buildings around her, choking the air and blotting out the sun, leaving the world dark save for the glow of the flames. Panicked screams sounded about around her, but she could find no trace of any other inhabitants._

_A roar made her turn her head skyward, her legs rooting to the spot with fear at what she saw. Amongst the fiery clouds, a dragon, black as night and large as a house, spiraled like a hawk over a mouse. The titan dipped a wing, dropping it's altitude and turning it's wicked head to her, locking on to it's target. Screaming in fear, she collapsed to the earth, watching in terror as the dragon tilted it's talons forward for the kill. It spread its wings wide as it came in close, like a bird of prey, fire glowing in the back of its maw as it loomed above her. She could only watch, paralyzed with fear, as the talons prepared to crush her. A thundering roar ripped from the creatures throat, deafening her with it's alien language in a single word._

**_"Dovahkiin!"_**

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><p>Elanin awoke a sweaty, hyperventilating mess beneath the tangled blankets. Kicking off the sheets, she darted her eyes around the room like a trapped animal. The inn, she was sleeping in an inn, that was it... Rain pattered on the roof, leaking in through the spacious wooden beams and dripping to the floor. Her bed was spared, at least, and so were her belongings.<p>

Clutching her chest, she drew a deep breath to calm her nerves and slow her pounding heart. _A dream, Elanin, it was only a dream. And a confusing one, at that..._ Still shaking, despite her best efforts, she settled her bare feet on the cold wooden floor. If she had to guess, she would gave said it was about mid morning. Late enough to get going, at least.

Grabbing her boots and bracers, she dressed herself, leaving her bed unmade out of habit. Feeling a faint twinge of hunger, she searched her pack for a suitable breakfast. She decided on a small amount of dried rabbit meat and half her last bread loaf. Washing that down with water from a canister, she felt a longing for her old life once more. What she wouldn't give for a plate of hot, fresh sweet rolls... Flinging the pack over her back, she took a last glance around the room. For all she knew of the Companions, this was the last time she would sleep in a real bed for a while. Sighing at the thought, she opened the door, descending the stairs to the main level of the inn. There were no other patrons now, only Hulda and the Redguard servant, who was busy laying out buckets to catch the water dripping down from the roof. The fire had been rekindled, though it burned lower than the night before, and the faint scent of cooked meat wafted from the kitchen.

"Can I interest you in some breakfast, perhaps?" The servant asked as she set down the last bucket, catching her off guard. Elanin looked at the woman for the first time, only to be somewhat surprised. The woman looked surprisingly... well bred, for a servant. Dainty features, sharp and intelligent eyes; these were the features of a noble. _She's certainly not one anymore though, she's probably in the same boat as you, Elanin. Only I will not end up sweeping floors..._

"No thank you." Elanin answered as politely as she could. The woman didn't seem at all upset, and only turned back to her task. Biting her lip, she decided to ask quickly. "But... Would you happen to know where I can find Jorvaskr?" The redguard seemed surprised, but answered calmly.

"It's by the Gildergreen. You can't miss it." Assuming that the "Gildergreen" was the large dead tree she had seen yesterday, Elanin thanked her again. She went on her way, passing the warm fire and coming to the exit. Opening the dragon patterned doors, she exited the inn, finding the rain to be gentler than she had expected, but colder as well. The market square still bustled with activity despite the weather, though vendors were careful to keep themselves and their goods concealed beneath their stalls. Pushing her way past all the turmoil, Elanin climbed the stairs to the upper level of the city. The feel of nervous butterflies in her stomach was quelled by the cold water droplets that pattered against her face. The feel of water against her skin reminded her that she hadn't bathed in days, but she had a sinking feeling that it would be many more before she would be able to again. The water bearing channels that ran through the streets surged a little faster around the tree at the town square, which was thankfully empty. Passing beneath the dead branches and the decorative arches, she found herself staring up a long set of stairs at what had to be Jorvaskr.

Swallowing nervously, she ascended the stairs, silently thankful that no one could see her. Looking up at the bulky structure, it became quite clear that the building was quite old. The rounded roof looked like a boat flipped over, with statues of what appeared to be dragons decorating the roof. The structure was very low to the ground, and thick wooden poles provided support. It was when she got closer that Elanin saw a ring of shields encircling the front of the building, each looking as old as the building itself. Knees wobbling, she arrived at the door, and found her mind clouding with doubt once more.

Was this really her only option? Joining up with a group of... Savages? Just for coin? Gods, how far she had fallen. To think she was this desperate for gold; her parents must have been rolling over in their graves. Steeling herself, she took hold of the cold door ring, and pushed open the door. This was her future.

For now.

* * *

><p>Ah yes, so pumped for the next chapter. The next couple of chapters, actually, these have all been to set up the story mostly. Now I can start the adventure in earnest! I'm literally bursting with inspiration right now. Mental images abound, for a world as epic as Skyrim. As always, I hope you enjoyed, and feel free to review or PM me your thoughts! I take constructive critisism only, so don't just send me flames as they will be ignored and reported.<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

Phew, this one took some time. Thanks to all my readers and reviewers for waiting so patiently! Still setting up things for the rest of the story. There will ample adventuring coming up soon!

* * *

><p>When Elanin entered Jorrvaskr, she found herself in a room that was far larger than she had expected. Red and gold banners and carpets decorated the wooden pillars and the solid stone floor, giving a surprising amount of vibrance. Animal heads and hanging shields, coupled with twisting embellishments on the wood, gave the room a thoroughly Nordic feel. Taking in her surroundings, she saw warriors of every kind, bearing a variety of weapons and armors. Some talked idly amongst themselves, while others ate at a large horse shoe shaped table that bordered a massive fire pit that burned in the center of the structure, built into the very floor itself. Looking around, Elanin felt relieved when she saw that she wasn't drawing any attention. The woman had told her to find Kodlak Whitemane, whoever that was. Perhaps if she found the warrior woman again she could help her? There wasn't any sign of her at a first glance, but-<p>

A roaring battle cry stopped her dead, and she turned to the source of a sudden and violent commotion. On an open expanse of the floor, a male Dunmer and a female Nord stood toe to toe, their fists raised in preparation to spar. The spectacle did not go unnoticed, and before the first punch had even been thrown, a ring had formed around the competitors.

"Are those two at it again?" An armored old man said as he ran past her, sounding amused more than anything. He joined the ring of spectators, some of whom were making bets amongst themselves. The woman threw the first punch, and even from a distance Elanin could see the muscles bulging on her arm as she swung. The dark elf used his arms for defense, but the thud of knuckles against the exposed flesh of his forearm was still painful to hear. If it hurt though, he showed no sign of it, swinging out with elven speed and catching the woman on her jaw. Blood dribbling from the corner of her mouth, the Nord snarled, swinging wildly but powerfully, and the elf did the same. They began exchanging rapid and savage blows, blocking some and taking others. Blood was quickly shed from their unprotected faces, and the crowd loved it, cheering on favorites and calling out advice.

"Go for the shoulder! He's giving you openings!"

"Watch the eyes!"

"Get in there and push!"

"Just keep swinging!"

"Get 'em! Kill 'em!"

Whether or not the fighters heard the advice, their throws became more savage, and both were sporting bloodied and swelling bruises along their upper bodies before long. Unable to look away, Elanin stared in a kind of horrified awe at the barbaric display, wandering closer but keeping a fair distance. Neither one was backing down, no matter how much damage they were taking. How could a winner come from this? Sweat was glistening over the warriors in addition to blood, and both were beginning to slow; sign that perhaps fatigue would be what ended the match.

"Going to enjoy killing you!" The Nord woman growled, boasting despite the fact she and her rival appeared to be equally damaged.

"Azura curse you!" The Dunmer roared with rage, striking out with bruised knuckles against any exposed bits of flesh he could find. Apparently, this had been what the Nord had wanted, as she stopped her assault and blocked the blows in a sudden change of strategy. The change confused the dark elf, who faltered for but a moment, and quickly paid the price. Fast as lightning, the nord struck at his exposed left collar bone, and a sickening "crack" could be heard all around the hall. The sound made Elanin grit her teeth as she imagined the pain, but the other warriors only cheered on the match. Again, with no less ferocity, the Nord woman hit the same spot of flesh, though this time she aimed closer to the mans left shoulder. Gasping in pain, the dark elf staggered back to the floor, good arm gripping his agonized and limp shoulder.

"No more! I yield!" He called in defeat, sounding far more pained than embarrassed at his loss. The victor stood tall, wiping blood off her lips and spitting out a gob of the scarlet fluid.

"You're pathetic." She declared, turning heel and leaving the loser to pick himself off the floor. Cheers came from the crowd, though the woman only helped herself to a bottle of mead on a nearby table, ignoring the praise in silent victory. Coins were exchanged amongst happy and disappointed gamblers, and everything returned to it's previously calm state.

Taking this all in, Elanin couldn't help but feel a strong need to reconsider her plan. The sheer barbarism of the display was off putting to say the least; how could she survive in a place that condoned such violence? There was still a chance to just walk out the door and try to think of a new line of work...

"Need something, dear?" A grandmotherly voice piped up. Elanin turned to see a very old looking woman standing beside her, a soft smile on her wrinkly features as she absentmindedly swept the floor. Taking the elderly woman's sudden appearance and question as a sign, Elanin decided to go forward with her plan.

"I was looking to join. Apparently I need to speak to someone called Kodlak?" She said somewhat unsurely, realizing that she must have looked quite out of place. The old Nord only smiled again, somewhat more lively this time, and nodded toward a stairway at the end of the hall.

"Just down those stairs, dear, at the end of the hall. You'll know him when you see him." She instructed, and Elanin thanked her with a polite nod. Moving through the hall, she couldn't help but be awed by the weapons hanging on the walls. Swords of every variety and culture; ebony, glass, elven, dwarven... And the list only went on. She could only imagine what stories each had to tell. It made her iron blade feel quite... common, in comparison. Reaching the stairs, Elanin stopped at what appeared to be another display, though of what she couldn't tell. Fragmented pieces were arranged on the wall, though what they were from was impossible to tell, as there were so few. Shrugging them off as unimportant, Elanin descended the stairs to the lower level of Jorrvaskr.

Opening the door, she was surprised to find herself not in another room, but a rounded and brick walled tunnel of sorts. Arching a brow at the curious design choice, she looked down the tunnel, seeing that several small doors branched off from the main passage, with a large one at the end. The old lady had said at the end of the hall, so logically that large door was where she would find this Kodlak.

She moved down the tunnel, which was kept surprisingly lit thanks to the aid of many well placed candles. Passing an open door, she spared a glance inside, catching a glimpse of several empty beds. So this was likely the sleeping quarters then. It appeared suitable, at least. But there was little order to the arrangement of the place, and she saw barrels of supplies arranged amongst a table that she passed. Was there no room for storage? Or did Nords simply not mind clutter? It was certainly odd. Going through a doorless frame, she found that suddenly the decorations took a turn. Two hallways split off on both sides, and she found surprisingly well crafted furniture in the room before her. Clearly this was the section reserved for the upper warriors, as the improved decorating showed. Still, she wasn't here to observe Nordic decorum, she was here to join. The closed door ahead was her target, and she reached for the handle.

"But I still hear the call of the blood..."

A mans voice through the door made her stop. Call of the blood? What in Gods name was that?

"We all do. It is our burden to bear. But we can overcome."

A second voice, this one also male but older, made her stop and listen. Eavesdropping was quite rude, yes, but something like this sounded important.

"You have my brother and I, obviously. But I don't know if the rest will go along quite so easily."

Go along? Go along with what? These were warriors, paid to fulfill contracts, what was going on?

"Leave that to me."

That sounded... ominous. Silence followed the old mans words, and Elanin took that as an opportunity to enter._ Best make it look like I didn't overhear..._ Pushing open the doors, she entered into a surprisingly spacious room. A rich red and gold rug blanketed the floor, and weapon cases were tucked into the corners. A bookcase and a work shelf dominated the left side of the room, and a massive skull, clearly not from Men or Mer, gathered dust near a weapon case. The room was clearly that of a leader, and Elanin spotted the two men she had overheard sitting by a table in the corner. Both were nords, but of very different ages, though they wore the same uniquely styled steel armor.

"A stranger comes to our hall." The old man, who she assumed to be Kodlak said. There was no harshness or surprise in his words, suggesting to her that such occurrences were frequent, if not expected. Swallowing the nervous lump in her throat, she did her best to stand straight as she approached. As she got closer, she felt the younger man gaze at her almost suspiciously. Dark brown hair hung just short of his shoulders, likely kept shorter in front for battle, and brown war paint accented his sharp, icy eyes.

"I would like to join the Companions." She explained, hoping that she sounded far more confident than she felt. As she drew closer to the old man, she became quite sure that she was speaking to a very powerful warrior. Time had done little more than hone and weather his features, and his white beard and hair left little doubt as to his namesake. A faded tattoo swirled over his right cheek, and he sat straight despite his hulking set of fur and steel armor. She shrank a little in his presence, even though he only seemed amused by her request.

"Really now? Let me have a look at you." Elanin stiffened at the mans gaze. There was something familiar in his eyes, something she had seen before... But where? The nordic woman, the one who had told her to come here! They both had the same... fire, in their eyes, the same soul searching gaze she was seeing now. Because the man wasn't looking at her, he was staring_ into_ her, straight to her soul. She could only hope he approved... Much to her relief, he nodded after a moment.

"Hm... Yes, perhaps. A certain strength if spirit." He concluded, and she subtly let out the breath she'd been holding. The young man beside them, who had been quiet during the exchange, suddenly piped up.

"Master, you're not truly considering accepting her?" He protested, and Elanin held back a glare. By the Eight, she'd faced enough hardships to get this far. The last thing she needed was someone trying to stop her now.

"I am nobody's master, Vilkas." Kodlak corrected, surprising her. No ones master? Wasn't he the leader? "And last I checked, we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts." Vilkas bowed his head in respect.

"Apologies. But perhaps this isn't the time. I've never even heard of this outsider." He argued, stinging her pride with the remark. Kodlak came in before she could bite back with a reply, however.

"Sometimes the famous come to us. Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame. It makes no difference." He reminded, negating any further argument. "What matters is their heart."

"And their arm." Vilkas pitched in, testing his luck one last time.

"Of course." Kodlak relented, sounding like a father dealing with a son. He turned his attention back to Elanin. "How are you in battle, girl?"

"I... can handle myself." Elanin replied, not wanting to stretch the truth or sound under qualified. Kodlak tilted his head, and Elanin had a feeling he already knew just how skilled she was, even before he had asked.

"That may be so. This is Vilkas. He will test your arm." He said, gesturing politely to the young man. "Vilkas, take her our out to the yard and see what she can do." Elanin looked over at the man, who did not appear to be happy with his assignment.

"Aye." He huffed, standing from his chair. Gesturing for her to follow, Vilkas moved quickly from the room, telling her he just wanted to get the task over with just as much as she did. She kept pace with him through the halls, feeling a little confused by the speed of things. So... was she a Companion now? If so, what did she do after this? Wait until someone gave her work? Gods, she hoped someone would explain all this to her. They went up the stairs, passing through the main hall to a door opposite the one she had used to get in.

They stepped out onto a large, sheltered patio of sorts. Sunlight flickered through gaps in the wooden roof above them and onto the three tables that were lined with plates. Only a few other warrior were outside though, one of which was balding old man who glanced at her as she passed. She felt a stab of shock when she saw he only had one eye, and the other was a sightless, milky orb. Scurrying after Vilkas, they entered an open patch of cobbled stone adjacent to the cities outer wall. Training dummies and archery targets borders the expanse of the open area, a tell take sign that this was clearly the training area.

"The old man said to have a look at you, so let's do this." Vilkas announced, drawing his blade and bringing out his shield. Elanin unsheathed her own blade. "Just have a few swings at me so I can see your form. Don't worry, I can take it." He lifted his banded iron shield, and she tightened her grip on her blade, taking breath of preparation. He had doubted her, insulted her pride; this was her chance to get back. She would hold nothing back. Gritting her teeth, she swung out with power gained from years of training. Vilkas blocked the blow with ease, as promised, but he still staggered. He hadn't been expecting any kind of power from her, that much was clear.

"Pretty good arm you got there." He grunted, setting his feet far more firmly on the ground. Holding up his shield, he gained a new look of determination. He did not plan to underestimate her this time. "Again." Taking a new stance of her own, she sidestepped, swinging out with a strike that was less powerful but far more precise at his armored side. To her surprise, he blocked it without much effort. Immediately, she berated herself for not predicting his speed. Human though he was, his smaller stature and leaner form gave him speed almost equal to an elf. She would need to keep that in mind...

"Looks pretty slow."

"Bet I could take her."

"Not bad."

The comments made her turn to see that the warriors who had been outside were now watching them, their meals abandoned so they could stand just on the edge of the training area. Elanin turned back to Vilkas, her knuckles white around the grip of her blade. Her pride was at stake now. She would let that fuel her. Standing on her toes, she looked for an opening in his shield guarded defense. There was no intention to do any real damage, of course, she knew where she could and could not strike. But she still wanted him to know that she was more than capable of _doing_ damage.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" He barked, sounding quite impatient with her slowness. With that, she lunged, faking right to throw him off and ducking left when he moved in the expected direction. Seeing her opening, she swung, though he brought his shield down just in time. Sparks were struck as her blade swiped against the rugged metal of the shield, and the impact sent painful vibrations up both of the combatants arms. Vilkas pulled away from her, and, much to her surprise, set his shield aside.

"Alright. But let's see how you handle defense." He said, pulling forth his finely crafted steel blade. Lifting her own blade, Elanin prepared herself; heart beating nervously. Defense wasn't something she'd trained much in, but she could probably hold her own. Right? There wasn't much time to wonder, as Vilkas charged, swinging at her armored midsection. Recalling what little she knew, she used his own momentum against him, swatting the blade to guide it away from her. Though she easily had three inches on him in height, he was far stronger, and she felt every ounce of that strength in her block. Sweat beaded her brow, but she still kept herself steady, using her pride to drive herself. She couldn't afford to look weak now, and she wouldn't. Vilkas swung again, aiming higher this time, and she parried the blow. He wasn't holding back either, apparently, and she panted slightly to catch her breath. While she was far from weak, such physical activity was not normal for her, and she hoped they would finish soon. Again, Vilkas struck, only this time she decided not to simply block. She met his blade with hers, locking them and catching the man quite off guard. Vilkas widened his eyes with surprise, then withdrew his sword, dropping it to his side.

"Not bad." He complimented, and Elanin sheathed her blade, trying to hide that the fight had left her rather out of breath. "But next time I won't go so easy on you." _Easy? You were fighting at your fullest! Even I could see it!_ She vented internally, though his teasing tone made it hard to tell if he was being serious. "You may just make it. But for now, you're still a whelp to us, _new blood_. So you do what we tell you." He held out his sword to her. "Here's my sword. Go take it up to Eorlund to have it sharpened. And be careful, it's probably worth more than you are." Elanin took the blade with a huff. So she was at the bottom of the pecking order then? It was a starting place, if nothing else...

"Where can I find this... Eorlund?" She questioned, and Vilkas made an annoyed sound.

"Just up there..." He said, gesturing to some rocky peaks beside them. "He's on top at Skyforge, just follow the path."

Elanin did as she was bid, following the worn stone path around the jutting boulders that led to a set of stairs. Head bowed, she made her way up the smooth stone, likely worn flat by countless years of use. The stones didn't just feel old though, as she took each additional step, she began to feel the familiar pulsing of magic. Being a High Elf, she was well attuned to sensing mana, and the air around her was pumping with its energy. And it only grew stronger as she climbed. Reaching the top, it immediately became clear to her where the magic was coming from. Before her stood a towering sculpture of an eagle, likely carved straight from the stone on which it stood. It's wings, held partially open, melded with the stone, encircling a great forge that burned at its feet. Carvings had been set leading up its neck, and a painful amount of detail had gone into shaping the animals intricate head.

The air around her crackled with a magic that was as ancient as it was powerful. This place had been infused with power like that she had felt in the White Gold Tower, how could mere Nords have constructed such a powerful artifact? Stopping her sight seeing, she saw a man working beside the forge at a grindstone. He must be Eorlund... He was old, though perhaps not as old as Kodlak. Long grey hair hair and a short beard were a clear sign of age, but his rather revealing suit of hide armor showed his muscles were still strong even in his later years.

"What brings you here?" He questioned as she drew close, only pausing to glance away from his work. With sword in hand, she approached.

"Vilkas sent me with his sword." She explained, though he seemed oddly amused by her explanation.

"I'm guessing you're the newcomer then?" He replied, taking his sword off the grindstone and standing to face her. He took the blade, examining it with a frown and muttering something about the irresponsibility of young warriors regarding their blades. "Not surprised he was too lazy to bring it himself."

"Does Vilkas always send newcomers on errands?" She asked, realizing only a little too late that the question was likely inappropriate considering her standing. Eorlund only seemed amused, thankfully.

"Oh, don't worry much about it. They were all whelps once. They just might not like to talk about it." He assured, sounding like he'd given the advice before. He became a little more serious as he continued. "And don't always just do what you're told. Nobody rules anybody in the Companions." The reminder brought back what Kodlak had said earlier. _I am nobody's master..._ Who ran the group then? Who made the decisions?

"Someone has to be in charge, though." She insisted, wondering if perhaps she just hadn't met said person. Eorlund only shook his head.

"Well, I'm not sure how they've managed it, but they have. No leaders since Ysgromar." Eorlund explained, much to her surprise and confusion. "Kodlak is the Harbinger, and he's sort of an advisor for the whole group, but every man is his own. Every woman, her own." The thought of a guild of barbarian warriors running itself boggled her mind. How did anything get done then? Who handled expenses? Contracts? Was there even any order to it? This was all so much to take in...

"I'll need to be going then..." She said, trying to politely excuse herself.

"I have a favor to ask." Eorlund said quickly, and she bit back a frown. More errands? Why did she have a feeling this would become a regular thing? He reached for a shield lying beside the forge, handing it to her as he explained. "I've been working on this shield for Aela. But, my wife is in mourning and I need to get back to her soon. I'd be much obliged if you could take this to Aela for me."

"I can do that." She sighed, taking the shield, though she was immediately surprised by it's weight. The front of it was reinforced with thick iron, skillfully accented with small notches for aesthetic appeal, though that didn't help it weigh any less. "Who is... Aela?" She questioned, getting a better hold of her burden.

"Ah, that's right, you're new..." Eorlund reminded himself. "Tall woman, red hair, green war paint on her face. You'll know her when you see her. Probably in the lower levels now." Now there was a description she recognized. That had to be the same woman she'd met while fighting the giant! Thanking the man for the advice, she left for her new destination.

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><p>Elanin realized, just as she was entering the lower part of Jorrvaskr once more, that it was only midday. It felt like she'd been going about for a full day, but it had been no more than a few hours. Such a busy day, and only the first of many...<p>

She remembered quite clearly what Aela looked like, now it was only a natter of finding her. Quickly too, the shield was proving to be quite a burden. How could anyone carry this into battle? Poking her head into the first bedroom, she found it to be empty, all eight beds lying vacant. Was this where she would sleep? She wasn't sure she wanted to know... It was certainly far from pleasant, and the beds were once more little more than a wooden base heaped with straws and furs.

Leaving the room behind, she headed further down the hall, taking a left at the entrance to Kodlaks empty room. Perhaps in one of these rooms. Aela had seemed quite accomplished, there was no doubt she could have been amongst the higher ranks.

"All these younglings scampering around..." A gruff voice said through the closed doors. Elanin stopped, realizing that the voice had come through the door she had been heading for.

"Worried one of them is going to take your place?" A familiar female voice replied. Aela, she was in there, but who was she talking to?

"Some of them might try. But that's not what I'm worried about."

"What then?"

"That they might get themselves killed."

"By you?"

"They should be so lucky..."

Realizing she was eavesdropping, again, Elanin moved forward and pushed open the door. Aela and the one eyed warrior she had seen before were inside, and both looked up in surprise to see her. Feeling a little awkward, Elanin quickly explained her presence.

"I have your shield." She explained as she she took a step to Aela, offering the heavy object in question. "Eorlund asked me to deliver it to you." Aela took the shield, her arm not showing any signs of wilting under the burden.

"Ah, good, I've been waiting for this." She said, giving her a look of recognition. The woman gave her a strong but genuine smile. "Glad to see you made it here."

"You know this one?" The old man said, and Elanin had to take great care not to stare at his bad eye. "I saw her training in the yard with Vilkas."

"Ah, yes. I heard you managed to hold your own." Aela replied, sounding quite amused by the fact. The old man snorted.

"Don't let Vilkas catch you saying that." He warned, though he appeared just as amused as Aela.

"Do you think you could handle Vilkas in a real fight?" Aela asked, and Elanin realized the question was directed at her. For a moment, she fumbled for a tactful response. The man had been skilled, but she certainly didn't want to sound weak...

"I don't care for boasting." She replied, skillfully dodging the question while still providing an answer. Being a noble had made her a master of such things, after all. The response seemed to please Aela, at least.

"Ah, a woman who let's her actions speak for her. I knew there was something I liked about you." She said, sounding quite sincere. Elanin only relaxed, glad to have earned someone's approval for the day. "Here, let's have Farkas show you where you'll be resting your head."

"Farkas!" The old man barked out the door immediately afterwards, startling Elanin. Within seconds, a pair of heavy footsteps could be heard hurrying closer, and the owner quickly stood in the doorway.

"Did you call me?" He asked, and Elanin immediately recognized him as one of the warriors she'd encountered fighting the giant; the one to behead it, in fact. Now that he was close though, she saw that he was practically a giant himself. The man was actually taller than she was, by two inches at least. She had never met any non Altmer taller than herself.

"Of course we did, icebrain." Aela responded teasingly to his earlier question. "Show this new blood where the rest of the whelps sleep." New blood. There was that term again...

"New blood?" Farkas repeated, looking her over before nodding with recognition. "Oh, I remember you. Come on, follow me." Pausing for just a moment, Elanin followed the man out the door, falling into place beside him. Walking in silence, she couldn't help but be awed by the sheer bulk of the man beside her. Never before had she felt so dwarfed in size, and by a Nord, no less. A greatsword was slung easily onto his back, and he seemed unburdened by the giant hunk of metal on his back.

"Nice to have a new face around." He piped up rather suddenly, trying to break the silence. "It gets boring here sometimes." Boring? She wondered, not replying aloud. Fighting giants was boring? That didn't bode well...

"I hope we keep you. This can be a rough life."

Neither did that...

He led her to the small room she had looked in before, stepping inside and gesturing around.

"These are the quarters. Just pick a bed and fall in it when you're tired." He explained, and she entered. They shared these beds? Great. "Don't worry about messes. Tilma will keep the place clean. She always has." Tilma... That was probably the old woman who had directed her earlier. The place at least had a servant then. "All right, so here you are. You'll want to meet all the others, I guess." Elanin nodded politely, though she had no intention of being social.

"Come to me or Aela if you're looking for work." He continued, giving the impression he had given this introduction to many newcomers before her. "Once you've made a bit of a name for yourself, Skjor or Vilkas might have things for you to do."

"When should I start working?" She asked. While she had no intentions of socializing, she still hoped to at least take some time to get settled. Gods only knew how long she would be living here, after all.

"Well..." Farkas began, and she suddenly had a gut feeling she wasn't going to like what she heard. "If you're looking for things to do..."

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><p>Hopefully the next chapter will be up a tad bit quicker. I've got quite a clear plan on what I want to do, though I'll be doing quite a bit of world warping to make it happen. As always, feel free to PM me a crit or leave one in a review!<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

First off, to those of you who follow me and this story, I'd like to apologize for the huge delay in this update. I've been massively busy with college searching and, as if that weren't enough, I lost all of my files when an update when bad... But, here it is, chapter 8. I'm quite thankful that I'm finally getting to the parts of the story I really want to write, so it will make it much easier to actually find inspiration when I have time.

Skyrim and all it's awesomeness (C) Bethesda

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><p>"We've got a contract that needs to be fulfilled as soon as possible, right here in Whiterun." Farkas explained, and Elanin had to force back a nervous gulp. As eager as she was to make some more coin for herself, she had yet to even adjust herself to her new surroundings. Surely someone more experienced could handle the task?<p>

"What's the contract?" She pressed, hoping she didn't sound too reluctant for details.

"Bandits are holed up just outside the city. We've been hired to take care of them." He elaborated, not needing to explain what "take care of" implied.

"Isn't that a task more suited for the guards?" She asked, a little confused. There had been bandits in Cyrodil, of course, but the Counts had always taken active measures to be rid of them. Either by sending guards or paid mercenaries to clear them out long before they became a problem. Farkas only shrugged.

"They're too busy with the war. Besides, these bandits will take little effort." He assured.

"Is there... anyone more experienced for the task?" She questioned, doing her best not to sound like she was avoiding the job. Farkas seemed a little surprised at the question, but only shrugged once more.

"Anyone could handle it, it's an easy job. Which is probably why no one wants it." He said, shifting his tone to a more serious one as he continued. "If I were you, I'd take it. Fulfilling an unwanted contract on your first day is sure to get you some friends around here." Elanin bit her lip in thought. Being able to win some favors early definetly sounded like an opportunity too good to pass up. But more fighting? More killing? Gods, she didn't want any more of that. But... when she truly weighed her options, there was little doubt as to what was the wiser choice.

"Where are these bandits?" She asked, and he smiled at her wise choice.

"Silent Moons Camp, a few hours walk northwest of the city. Much faster if you ride though."

"I don't have a horse." She said simply.

"We've got a couple held in the stables. Just tell the owner you're with the Companions, he'll show you." He explained helpfully. "Here, I'll mark the destination on your map." A faint blush appeared on her cheeks.

"I... Don't have a map either..." She admitted lamely. _I must look ridiculous... No map, really... He must be getting frustrated with me._

"Right, you're probably new to the country." He replied with a surprising amount of understanding in his voice. Reaching into a fold of leather resembling a pocket on his armor, he pulled out a folded piece of parchment, handing it to her. "Got this from a merchant as part of payment a little while back, but I never use it. I know the country like the back of my hand." Taking it somewhat tentatively, Elanin unfolded the parchment. Though the paper was somewhat yellowed with age and crinkled from lack of care, it had clearly been made to handle such abuse, as the image was still clear as day. A map of the whole of Skyrim, complete with mountains, rivers, and the cities and villages stretched out before her. Neat, tiny handwriting identified cities as well as major landmarks, and the bottom corner of the map was signed with the cartographers large, decorative writing.

"Silent Moons Camp is right around here." Farkas instructed, pointing to an area just Northwest of Whiterun. "Just follow the edge of the city, you can't miss it. It's an old ruin." Elanin nodded, remembering the location in her mind. Her schooling had included a few lessons on cartography, so she was able to use the scaling reference in the corner of the map to give herself a rough idea of distance. It would roughly be about a two hour ride on horseback, so she could probably get out and come back before nightfall.

"How many will there be?" She asked, folding up the map and slipping it in to the pack on her back.

"The contract said to expect about four at most. They're probably poorly armed; as bandits tend to be. Shouldn't be a problem for you, considering you held your own against my brother."

"Your brother?" She asked with surprise.

"Aye, Vilkas and I are twins. We're just not identical." He explained, and she furrowed her brows in disbelief. Twins? Those two? They looked nothing alike; Vilkas was small, lean and intelligent, while Farkas was tall, bulky, and slow. But then again, when she looked at their eyes... Of course, that same icy blue... That appeared to be where the similarities ended though. "He's one of our best, so I'm sure you'll be fine. Better head out now if you want to return before the day ends."

"Right, of course." She responded, doing her best not to sound reluctant. Excusing herself somewhat awkwardly, she made her way back through the hall and up the stairs, doing her best to stifle the nervous nausea welling in her gut.

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><p>The stable owner had led her to the horses without hesitation or question as soon as she had mentioned she was with the Companions. At first she had found it odd, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. After all, who would steal such a valuable asset from a guild of renowned warriors? It would be suicide, if nothing else.<p>

She was led back through the small stable and to the horses she could choose from. Up close, she was able to see that these were not like the tame and delicate horses back in Cyrodil. These animals were bulky, shaggy, durable, and built for combat. The stable owner left without another word, and she was left alone to consider her options. There were six in total, an even mix of stallions and mares, all with highly varied coats. From her limited experience with horses, she knew that stallions tended to be far more wild than mares, so she immediately took them out of consideration. That left her with the three mares, who she examined carefully. Not being much of an expert, she eventually decided on the solid black mare, if only because she appeared to be the most calm. The animal was already tacked, but she opened the small door to the stall carefully, hoping the horse wouldn't attempt to bolt.

The mare lifted her head in surprise as the door opened, but made no attempt to move, instead just observing Elanin with her large, blue eyes. Seeing that she wasn't going to make a run for it, Elanin opened the door all the way, stepping carefully into the stall and taking hold of the crude leather lead. The horse moved unexpectedly fast at the small tug, and Elanin couldn't stand aside before a bristly muzzle pressed against her neck, snuffling with interest. With a sound of disgust, she pushed the animals snout away, moving quickly through the stable to avoid the experience again. The horse plodded faithfully behind, her hairy hooves drumming in even pace to Elanin's as she followed like a loyal puppy.

They stepped out into the open, and Elanin wasted no time hopping onto the creatures back. She had ridden enough times to know the basics, so she was able to settle easily enough into the saddle, just not comfortably. Squeezing her heels, she urged the animal forward and away from the building, gripping the bridle nervously at the animals bouncy gate. _Now, Farkas said to just follow the edge of the city north._ The map had seemed to support the idea, so she decided to set off with that in mind. Pushing the mare forward, she led it along, going away from the main path and alongside the rough edge of the town wall. The stone from which the wall had been carved stretched out rather far, so she was forced onto the strange grass that made up the plain. The horse trotted in a straight line without any further guidance, leaving Elanin with the freedom to admire the scenery.

All to her left, the plains stretched out for uncountable miles, rolling slightly as they got closer to the mountains on each side. Bristly shrubs and lichen covered rocks marked the area as tundra, though she had studied very little about such environments beyond knowing how to identify them. Narrowing her eyes against the glare of the afternoon, she was able to discern some odd, brown shapes in the far distance. Upon closer inspection, she saw that they appeared to be massive, and moving. By the Eight, what creature could possibly be so big? Perhaps it was best she didn't know...

Sitting in silence, she occupied herself by thinking about the task ahead; namely how insane she must have become to even be considering it. _I'm about to kill men for money..._ She told herself, feeling a piercing chill in her gut at the thought. _But these men are not Imperial soldiers, fighting for the good of their homeland._ She immediately reasoned. _These are bandits, who kill and steal for a living. Gods only know how many people killing them would save. I'm... like the adventurers from my childhood stories; off to slay the villains on an adventure of my own. I'm on an adventure. Yes._ She allowed the thought to keep her occupied as they went on, if only because it helped to steel her frayed nerves.

It took a good half hour to reach the end of the cities wall, part of this was due to the length of the city, and the rest to the extreme slowness of her mount. The mare may have been muscular, but she was immensely slow, plodding along like an old man rather than a horse. Grumbling, she pulled out the map, remembering where Farkas had pointed to and looking in the direction it indicated. Narrowing her eyes, she looked into the far distance to the northwest. The land was notably bumpier here on the edge of the plains, and the ground sloped down in front of her to form rocky hills that flattened into the horizon. High hills that formed the base of far off mountains marked the edge of the plains, and it was amongst those far off, mossy hills that she saw a crumbling grey ruin standing alone. That had to be it. It fit into the perfect position on the map. Giving the mare a tap with her heels, she urged the animal on at a faster speed, feeling the powerful muscles below her bouncing at a frustratingly slow speed that could barely be called a gallop. Huffing in growing frustration, she felt the horse keeping a straight course just as before, ridding her of any need to steer. At her current pace, she knew it would take a good hour to reach the far off ruin.

The thought brought almost as much ease as annoyance, for it meant she still had an hour before her task began. Even she could openly admit to herself she was afraid, as shameful as it was. _Come now Elanin, they're bandits! Simple, common, Nordic bandits! They should hardly prove a challenge to someone as skilled as yourself._

But that brought little comfort as the ruin drew closer at a surprisingly rapid speed, growing larger in her field of vision as it dipped in and out of view between the hills. The few trees that managed to grow did little to obscure her vision, and the ruin only became clearer until it was directly in front of her. The former fort was a crumbling mess, and a thick layer of moss blanketed much of the stone that still remained. From where she was at the top of a small hill, she was about even with the top of the half buried structure. It appeared to be rounded without a roof, almost like an arena, which gave her the idea the bandits were likely within. What her vantage point didn't tell her was how she could enter, or, more importantly, where the bandits _really_ were. A small blush filled her cheeks when she realized that if they had been keeping watch, they would have seen her without doubt. But, seeing as she hadn't been attacked, it was likely they weren't even competent enough to have posted a sentry. Taking a gulp, she dismounted the horse, deciding she didn't need to tie the animal when it began grazing contentedly at the course grass.

Taking out her sword, she approached the ruin, ignoring the shake in her legs and the fluttering in her gut. Gods, what was she supposed to do? There didn't appear to be any kind of door... Reaching the stone wall, she looked both ways and deciding that the entrance was probably around the side. Going to her left, she began heading downhill, watching as more of the ruin became visible in the receding earth. Following the wall, she was quite surprised to find that a section further on had been reduced to a towering pile of rubble, forcing her to pull away and go further down the hill. Looking below from her now clear vantage point, she saw the remains of a walkway and crumbled towers. So she was likely headed to the front of the ruin then, that was a good place to start.

Rounding all of these structures, she found herself at the bottom of the hill, and she kept a tight grip on her blade as she moved to the front. Stepping out past the side walls, she came to the flat front of the ruin, and she was surprised at what she saw. Standing before a collapsed wall was a Wood Elf. He had a bow slung over his back and was wearing a crude bit of fur armor, with a splash of green war paint over his rough features. Not a moment passed before the elf turned his head and saw her, a look of alarm crossing his features as he drew his bow and let out a cry.

"Intruder!"

Acting on panicked instinct, Elanin charged, knowing that she probably had mere moments before reinforcements came. The bandit let loose a quick arrow that flew by her right side, and then another as she reached the midway point between them. Strafing to the side, she felt the second arrow nick her armor, letting her know that the bandit wasn't likely to miss the next shot. Closing the gap between them, she prepared her blade as the Wood Elf tossed his bow to the side, drawing a tiny dagger from his belt instead. With surprising speed, he slashed out at her, going for her stomach. Ducking back, she managed to evade the attack, adrenaline surging through her systems as she went in for an attack of her own. The man swung again, only now she was ready. Striking out, she managed to cut deeply into his dagger wielding hand, causing him to cry out in pain and drop his weapon. Not wasting any time, she took advantage of his poor armor, driving her sword forward and running him through.

A gurgling sound of surprise passed the mans lips, and his wide eyes locked with hers. For a moment, the turmoil around her faded as she saw the accusing look in his fading eyes, though that quickly faded as she heard the cries from his charging allies. Snapping herself back to reality, she put her boot to the mans middle, pulling out her sword with a sucking sound and turning to the sound of the commotion.

No sooner had she turned when another bandit came forth from around the corner and a second just behind her. The first was clearly a mage, as one could tell by the glowing aura about her hands, and the second was another archer. Elanin cursed her foul luck; more distance fighters! She had no way to use her magic against multiple foes, as she didn't have the time to concentrate. Setting her jaw, she moved backward, forcing her foes to come a little closer and away from such an open area. The Mage charged, letting out a blast of bitter cold from her fingertips that struck Elanin head on. The stinging cold quickly frosted over her armor and chilled her exposed flesh, but Elanin held on. The spell was a weak one, and did little more than cause an intense amount of discomfort.

Pushing against the cold, Elanin charged the Mage as soon as she was where she wanted her to be. The Dunmer panicked, but was given no time to flee as a she was slashed across her unarmored chest, and cut again to finish the job. An arrow whisking by her head reminded Elanin her job was not done, and she cursed when she saw the archer standing at a fair distance. This one was smart; she knew her advantage was at a distance, and she aimed to keep it. Still fueled by adrenaline, Elanin decided she had no choice but to charge into the open.

Keeping her eyes alert for any other bandits, she moved forward and found herself at the entrance to the ruin at last. The structure had a bit of a horse shoe shape, with collapsing walls on either side and a large stairway in the middle that led up to the main building. There didn't appear to be much order to the design, though that was likely due more to the powerful wear and tear of time than a lack of foresight by the builders. The bandit now stood on a raised platform of stone to the far left of the ruin, just beside a smoking fire. Steeling her nerves, Elanin dashed across the open yard, hearing the arrows thunk into the ground around her and fly by her. She kept her head low, keeping her eyes focused on her goal as she twisted her path to throw off the woman's aim. Closing the distance between them, Elanin stumbled with surprise as she felt an arrow dig into the tough leather of her shoulder armor, but she managed to recover quickly enough to tear it out in time to face her foe at last. The Redguard drew a dagger identical to the one wielded by the Bosmer before, but it would do nothing to save her. Crying out with rage, Elanin used the momentum from her run to attack, driving her blade into the woman's ribs and clear through her. Not wasting any time, Elanin pulled out her sword, watching the woman drop and panting from her efforts as she came down from the high of battle.

No sooner had she caught her breath than did a sudden piercing pain erupt in her side, forcing her to her knees with a cry of agony.

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><p>Short chapter and a cliffhanger ending... Gosh, it's no wonder I hardly have any followers with habits like these... But, I really did have to cut this chapter in half for a number of reasons, namely to keep it from becoming overstuffed...<p> 


	9. Chapter 9

I would like to take a moment to point out that I have not forgotten this story, as this update clearly indicates. Not only that, but I'd like to point out that I'm not "lazy" in any way, shape, or form. I lost _two_ versions of this chapter thanks to computor problems, and am publishing it in it's current, rather shortened state as a result of such. I am very busy with my senior year of high school, so writing has taken a back seat for now. If you're not patient enough to understand that, I'm sorry.

All of that aside, here's the second half of the last chapter.

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><p>The pain that came from the arrow digging into her side was worse than anything Elanin had ever known, and it left her on her knees in a state of temporary shock.<p>

On instinct, she grabbed at the wooden shaft protruding from her side, giving it a sharp tug in an attempt to rid herself of the pain. The agony produced by the action made her halt immediately with a cry of pain, and forced a few hot tears down her cheeks.

"Is that all you've got?!" A taunting voice cried, snapping her out of her painful haze. Lifting her head, she blinked to clear her blurred vision just in time to see another arrow whisk by her head, fired by one of the two male Nord archers standing at the top of the stairs. They quickly prepared two more arrows, and it was only by stumbling to a half standing position and hobbling that she was able to avoid being struck. The injury protested at every step, forcing her to stop and snap the shaft as close as possible in an attempt to lessen her painful burden. The pain from the wound and the commotion around her started up her adrenaline once more, dulling the ache and bringing back her ability to stand.

Gritting her teeth, she turned to the stairs and charged her foes, limping but doing her best to maneuver and throw off their shots. They had poor aim, but the uphill advantage allowed their carefully chosen volleys to come unnervingly close despite her attempts to avoid them. Keeping a white knuckled grip on her sword, she willed up all of her remaining mana in a fire spell, balling her free hand into a fist as she felt the heat build around it. Ordinarily, she would have used both hands to keep the spell under control, as her instructors had always insisted, but this was a very special circumstance. Timing herself, she came into range just as she'd accumulated a sufficient amount of mana, setting her feet down firmly in preparation.

With a cry, she uncurled her fist, holding forth her palm as the mana surged from her hand in a blast of fire. Unlike the usual, controlled blast, the flames shot out wildly before her, engulfing the two archers in a suffocating inferno. With terrible, agonized screams, both dropped their flaming bows and tried to smother the fire. Not wasting any time, she charged on the nearest one, ignoring the heat and stabbing at their chest. The fire burned her hand and singed her leather armor, but the hit was a success. The Nord crumpled, rolling down the steps a limp tangle of smoldering flesh. Turning her attention to the other one, she did the same as before, though this time she went deeper than intended. Taking hold of the hilt in both hands, she pulled her blade free, and the Nord fell like his comrade. Panting, she watched as the bodies fell to the bottom of the stairs, the fire burning out and leaving the two corpses blackened and smoky at the bottom.

With a pained grunt, she sat down heavily on the stairs, lifting a hand to wipe away the sweat on her brow only to stop as soon as her fingers touched her head. Letting out a small cry of pain, she lifted her hand to observe it, gasping in shock when she saw the skin was red and blistered from the fire. Dropping her sword, she lifted her other hand to see it was the same, and that the armor on her forearms was blackened beyond repair. Like any wound, the burns hurt far more upon being noticed, and the ache of the arrowhead in her side returned as well. Letting out a small sound of pain, she maneuvered to drop her pack from her shoulders, trying to move as delicately as possible so as not to further upset her wounds. Settling the pack on her lap, she carefully looked through the contents, feeling a surge of relief at the sight of the two small health potions amongst other supplies.

Grabbing one, she uncapped it, pouring the contents down her throat in one gulp. The potion was flavorless, but it immediately filled her with a comforting warmth, and she let out a sigh as the magic dulled the pain and restored a small amount of her strength. It wouldn't actually heal her like an upper tier potion would, but the small boost was enough to get her on her feet again, albeit shakily. Taking her sword and sheathing it, she carefully picked her way down the stairs, suddenly very aware of the unnerving silence that had descended over the ruin. The corpses of the bandits lay sprawled around her, lying where they'd fallen in pools of blood, with the two archers still letting off white puffs of smoke. The scent of their burned flesh churned her mostly empty stomach as she passed, and she turned her watery eyes away from the gruesome sight and covered her nose.

She'd made it to the end of the ruin and was about to turn when the a door, almost completely blended into the stone, burst open behind her.

"Sigurd, where are you?! You were supposed to report-"

The female Nord cut off the moment she saw Elanin, her scarlet painted features going from an expression of shock to one of rage in a matter of moments. The bandit reached behind to pull forth the iron war hammer from the sheathe on her back; a wicked device with a spiked rectangular head that could kill with a single hit. The woman charged without hesitation, and Elanin was left momentarily stunned with terror at the sight. The hulking Nord was even taller than she, and was decorated with fiery red war paints and a Mohawk accented with a single braid. This was the true kind of barbarian she'd always heard of in the tales, and if her bulging muscles and full fur armor told nothing else, it was that she was a deadly foe. Fumbling, Elanin drew her sword, completely unsure how to handle herself against such a weapon and weakened by her earlier skirmishes.

The Nord swung the hammer in a wide arc the moment she was in range, and Elanin had to jump backward as best she could, the hammer swinging just inches in front of her midsection. The slowness of the hammer was the only reason she avoided further injury, but it's range left her little ability to counter attack. Snarling in rage, the bandit stood her ground, and the two were left tensely waiting for the other to move. _I can't just run_. Elanin thought, struggling to think up a strategy. _She'll catch me for sure, as slow as I am right now. All I can do us fight, but- _

Her thoughts were brutally cut off when the Nord struck again, and this time she was forced to drop to the ground to avoid being struck. With smooth efficiency, the bandit continued with the momentum of her swing, lifting the hammer over her head and bringing it down with every intent of delivering a fatal blow. With a clumsy roll to the side, she managed to avoid the hit, but she lost her grip on her sword in the process and it was struck by the hammer. With horror, she looked back upon the blade, her sole method of defense now bent sharply and completely worthless. The Nord stepped on the blade in a cruel, taunting gesture.

"Come and get your sword, elf!" She challenged. Once more, they were left in a stare down, with the balance of power now clearly in the Nords favor. Clutching the wound on her side, which was now bleeding from the aggravation, Elanin struggled to formulate some kind of plan. She was weak, weaponless, and almost out of mana. Needless to say, it was a situation that appeared to be as desperate as it was hopeless. But damn it all, she didn't want to die here! How many times had she defied death the past few days alone? She'd survived a dragon attack, by the Gods, she could defeat this barbarian! Standing after a few stumbles, she willed up every last bit of her remaining mana, staring down the Nord with renewed determination. Though she would need to get in close for the attack to work, the slowness of her foe would make that very possible with the right timing.

Sidestepping as best she could, she began to circle the Nord, who only held her ground and turned with her. Focusing on her movements, Elanin judged the best moment to strike, her left hand ackling with a weak but sufficient electrical spell. The Nord surprised her by jumping forward in a mock charge, and in a panic, she went in to deliver her attack.

The mistake cost her dearly.

Being well prepared, the Nord swung out, crashing the edge of her hammer into the side of Elanin's ribs. The devastating blow hit with a sickening crack, crushing the ribs beneath and forcing the air from the lungs in a single rush. The pain sent stars swirling across Elanin's field of vision, sending her into shock as she froze from the agony. Taking advantage of the weakness, the bandit swung again, catching the hammer on the back of her thigh and dropping her to the ground.

Hitting the dirt hard, Elanin struggled to think in her haze of agony, lying in a heap without any kind of defense. Hearing the Nord bellow in triumph, she turned her head upward, squinting into the sun to see the outline of the hammer raised high in preparation to strike a final blow.

A loud whinny saved her just as the Nord prepared to finish the fight, and they both turned just in time to see the black mare Elanin had left up the hill charge around the corner. The horse wasted no time closing the gap between them, her powerful legs pushing her at an incredible speed toward the fray and her icy eyes wild with rage. The bandit turned to face the new threat just as the horse reared above her, but wasn't fast enough.

The mare struck out wildly with her great hooves, quickly landing a solid blow on the front of the bandits skull. The powerful impact resonated with a sick crack, sending forth a heavy spattering of blood and fragments of bone and killing the Nord instantly. A second hit on the other side of her skull knocked her to the ground, her hammer dropping from her hands and thudding against the dirt with her body. The sight of the Nords split skull broke Elanin from her shock, and the grisly sight combined with her intense pain made her turn her head and vomit the meager contents of her stomach. The action sent waves of pain from her broken ribs, and she clutched the injured area in pain, feeling the mangled armor that had to be beyond repair.

A curious snout snuffled her sweaty hair, and she looked up to see the mare standing over her, hairy hooves still bloodied from the fight. The animals blue eyes had lost their intensity, and were now as calm as they had been before as she looked over the injured creature before her. Reaching up, Elanin gave the mare a gentle pat on the snout, now realizing that she owed it her life.

"Good horse." She rasped, unable to think of any other form of praise. The mare seemed satisfied enough, turning to show her side and allow Elanin to climb aboard her saddle. It should have been simple to climb up, but in her current state, the stirrups seemed to a be a mile away. But she needed help, and to do that, she needed to get back. Grabbing hold of the saddle as high as she could reach, which wasn't high, she clung to the leather and did her best to ignore the protests of her burns. Working to lift herself with her good leg and pulling herself up, she struggled through the countless protests of her injuries, pinching her face white with pain. With great effort, she managed to stand, leaning heavily on the mare for support as she started the process of actually getting herself in the saddle. A glint in the corner of her eye made her look down, and she saw her sword lying in the dirt, bent and worthless. Deciding it wasn't worth collecting, she went back to lifting herself into the saddle.

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to get it over with, using her good leg to haul herself upward in one big heave. Settling roughly into the saddle, she took a moment to let her wounds settle their shrieking protest, keeping her hand over her broken ribs. The mare started forward without urging, accidentally adding to her all over ache in the process. Settling into a position that aggravated her injuries the least, Elanin gave the mare direction to return the way they had come, utterly miserable in her pained and exhausted state and not caring that the trek would last until after nightfall at their current speed.

* * *

><p>By the time they reached the city, the sun was leaving the last of its rays on the western horizon and an icy breeze had started to pick up. Elanin had more or less fallen off her mare to dismount, handing her off to the stable manager who had taken her without a word. He hadn't made a single comment on her condition, or offered any kind of help. So she was left alone to limp back to Jorrvaskr, her body aching all over from a mix of countless hurts.<p>

The uphill hobble into and through the town was a fog in her memory. Perhaps it was the pain, perhaps it was exhaustion, but something allowed her to make the painful trip in a timeless daze. It wasn't until she was at the door to Jorrvaskr itself that she realized just how far she'd walked, and how cold and tired she was as a result. Pushing the doors open, she was greeted by a refreshing rush of warm, smoky air. Sighing at the first bit of comfort she'd had in some time, no matter how meager it was, she closed the door behind her to enter the hall. The fireplace built into in the floor still burned dimly on the coals, mixing with the moonlight and casting an orange-silver glow into the red and gold banners in an almost beautiful display. The warriors she'd seen before had likely long since retired to bed, and the only sign of life was the old woman from before, still sweeping away beside the tables.

"Looks like you had quite the time dear, hm?" The old woman piped up without even lifting her head, surprising Elanin. The Nord looked up after a moment, beckoning for her to follow. "Just come with me, we'll get you fixed up." Hobbling after the elder to the far end of the hall opposite the stairs to the lower level, she was led into an empty room, and was surprised to see how well furnished it was. The old woman (she believed her name started with a T?) led her to the bed, and before she even had time to relish in the feel if the soft wool against her tired body, a drink was offered to her.

"Take this." The old woman advised. "It'll soothe some of your aches." Minding her burnt hands, Elanin took the cup, swishing around the oddly colored contents. It was a cloudy light blue liquid that smelled of herbs, and despite the thirst in her throat she immediately distrusted it.

"It's not poison, dear. I assure you." The old woman encouraged with an assuring smile. Looking down at the solution, Elanin steeled her stomach and tilted her head, swallowing it all in a few gulps. The taste was bitter, but not as bad as she had expected, so it went down rather smoothly.

It wasn't until she had swallowed the last drop and put the cup aside that she realized something was off. A wave if dizziness crashed into her full force, followed only heartbeats later by an intense exhaustion. The empty cup dropped to the floor with a clatter, but she didn't hear it. All she could do was clutch her temples as the room spun around her, going faster and faster until it became an incomprehensible whirlwind and her body could take no more, and she fell limp onto the mattress.

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><p>The ending will make sense in the next chapter, I promise. I just need to get back into the flow of this story again...<p>

As always, feel free to review or just keep reading, whatever suits you.

Skyrim (C) Bethesda


	10. Chapter 10

Wow, this was fast. Have I ever updated so quickly before? Oh well, best not to question it... I honestly can't believe I'm at chapter ten, no matter how long it's taken me to get here. As always, I try to make it realistic, but I do take some creatice liscence to make it easier on myself and have a little fun.

Skyrim (C) Bethesda

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><p>Consciousness came in waves for Elanin, fading in and out in such a way that for an indeterminable amount of time she couldn't discern sleep from wakefulness. It was only the hum of activity that stirred her beyond the realm of her faint, fretful dreams and she became aware of the warm blankets draped over her. For the shortest of moments, she thought she was at home in her own bed, and the movement outside was servants going about their daily chores. But reality settled in with brutal clarity, and her heart sank as she opened her eyes to find herself in a bed that was not her own. The memory of how her battle and injuries was clear in her head, but it was with a frown that she realized everything after coming back to Jorrvaskr was a blur. She'd clearly fallen asleep, but why here? Had someone tended to her? Trying to recall only gave her a headache. Sitting up in bed, she saw bright light filtering in through the thick, divided glass of the window just before her. It had to be around noon, then. The sensation caused by her moving in bed brought her attention to her injuries.<p>

Or rather, her _lack_ of injuries.

Lifting her hands, she was surprised to see only normal, healthy skin free of blisters and burns. Kicking down the sheets to observe herself further, she found that she was now wearing a simple baggy brown shirt and pants, without any shoes. Lifting her shirt, she examined her sides. The arrow wound was now nothing but a white scar on her flesh, and the only sign of any injury to her ribs was the faintest outline of a fading bruise that was barely tender to the touch. Reaching to the back of her thigh, she found it the same, no more than a minor bruise.

"Feeling better, dear?" A soft feminine voice piped up, and she turned to see the old woman from before bearing a tray.

"Much better than I expected." She admitted, feeling her stomach growl when she saw the food on the tray. The old woman laid it out before her, and she surveyed the contents. A mug of mead, grilled leaks, an apple, and a diced meat that appeared to be venison.

"That's good. Eat up then, and feel free to join the others when you can. Farkas needs to see you." Elanin paused with the mug halfway to her lips.

"Farkas? Why?"

"He needs to pay you for the quest, dear. And he wishes to speak with you."

"...Why?"

The old woman sat on the bed beside her. "Some of the others were curious as to why you came so injured after such a simple quest, so a few went out to explore. The contract said to expect three or four-"

"But I fought six." Elanin finished. "The trouble mostly came from the big one..."

"They had a chief?"

"I... suppose that's what she was."

The elder nodded. "That explains it. You did very well, going up against such unexpected odds. Not many others could do the same."

"...Thank you." When the old woman got up to leave, Elanin turned back to her food, only to realize she had forgotten something. "Oh excuse me, er..."

"Tilma."

"Tilma, yes. Where are my things?"

"Your armor had to be tossed." She explained, and Elanin widened her eyes with surprise. "Leather doesn't work well for warriors, dear. Only archers and sneak thieves. Your pack and some shoes are beside the bed." Looking over the bedside, she saw her backpack and a pair of boots. "I took the liberty of restocking your supplies. Now, unless you have any other questions...?"

"Oh no, I'm fine. Thank you once more."

The old woman bowed her head and excused herself, leaving Elanin alone with a much needed meal.

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><p>The mead in Elanin's belly filled her with a strange warmth, but she was still clear headed enough to immediately realize that the hall was a lot emptier than it should have been. The fire was now little more than dim coals, and the table was devoid of food or utensils. Looking around, she saw only one other person in the room, sitting in a chair.<p>

Farkas.

Well, no time like the present. She opened her mouth to call out to him, but he saw her first.

"Elanin." He acknowledged simply, rising from his chair. "Are you well?" As he came closer, she was reminded just how tall he was, and couldn't help but be a little intimidated as he looked down on her.

"I'm fine." Though it was very subtle, she saw some relief in his eyes as she said it.

"Tilma's a fine healer." He commented, nodding his head. "That sleeping potion of hers makes sure you don't feel a thing."

Elanin was silent for a moment. "...Sleeping potion?"

"Aye, it's what made you sleep so long." He tilted his head a little, the confusion clear in his voice. "Didn't you know? You've been asleep for two days." The fact caught her quite off guard, and the surprise showed clear on her face.

"Oh... Tilma must have forgotten to mention that."

"It's no big deal." Farkas assured with a shrug. "You haven't missed anything."

"Has everyone left?"

"A courier came in with three big contracts, all in different parts of Skyrim." He looked about the empty hall, and she had a feeling he was not accustomed to it being so vacant. "Only Kodlak, Skjor and I remain."

"Why did you stay?" Elanin asked before she could stop herself.

"I was waiting for you to wake up." He replied simply, and she had to struggle to keep the surprise off her face. He continued before she could ask for any kind of clarification. "The client already received word of the success, and I have your pay." Bringing forth a heavy sack she hadn't seen him carrying, he offered it to her, and she took it. The muffled sound of coins rustling within and the sheer weight told her it was a good sum of gold, and experience handling profits told her it was probably an even hundred septims. How much did that leave her with? Two hundred forty? "I also need to apologize. I didn't check that the information was correct, and you suffered for it. You went in unprepared."

"Oh... It's... not your fault." She assured, internally surprised by her lack of anger at his mistake. Maybe it was the mead...

"It's my duty to ensure that contracts are accurate. It was such a simple job I didn't bother, and that kind of attitude gets people killed. It almost got you killed." His tone was hard to read, but she swore she caught a bit of self admonishment. The man before her was a giant, ruthless warrior, and here he was _apologizing_ to her. "That's why I've decided to be your Shield-Brother on your proving."

"...Come again?"

"It means I'll be your guide when you're ready to become one of us." He explained simply, though she was still confused. "The Proving is what we all go through to truly join the Companions. It'll be a quest to prove the strength of your spirit, as well as your blade."

"I thought I was already a Companion." She said, feeling the faintest trace if alarm worming in her gut. No one had mentioned anything about further tests, and she knew that she would have no alternative means of getting by if she failed.

"Not really. Not yet, at least." He shrugged, as if to clear the heavy topic from their conversation. "It will likely be some time before your time comes though, so don't worry about it."

"What should I do in the mean time?"

"I'd suggest spending some of that coin and getting some new armor. Go see Adrianne at Warmaiden's, down by the market district." He instructed, and she nodded in understanding. Hopefully her next set of armor would be a little more... protective.

"I'll go and do that then." She said, excusing herself.

"Aye. Glad you're sticking around. The first contract always separates the survivors from the... well, not survivors."

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><p>The sun was shining brightly as Elanin stepped out into the open, though the weather was mild and pleasant. It was not the kind of temperature she would have ever expected in a land known for its unnatural cold, but when she remembered that it was Midyear, and this was the warmest weather she could expect, it made sense. Carrying her gold bearing pack on her shoulders, she began thinking about what kind of armor and weapon could possibly replace her last. She'd been trained according to traditional high elven standards, and that meant things were taken slowly. Swordplay and basic magic were all that she'd had the time to learn, and proper battle with armor was supposed to have come next. A faint memory surfaced of her late fathers promise to have her own set of traditional elven armor crafted on her twenty first birthday, and with it came a pang of sadness and guilt.<p>

How long had it been since she had even given him a single thought? There hadn't been any time to mourn, any time to even reflect on the loss, up until now. And beyond that, what had happened to her brother? Though he'd been named after her fathers close friend Calcelmo, a brilliant high elf alchemist, he had never been one for brains or vision. How could he possibly hope to run the estate and business he had so suddenly and unfairly inherited? The vast network of interconnected merchants that had worked for them needed to be paid, supervised, and instructed; no small task for even the most competent of individuals. She could only wonder how long it would be before her brother managed to run a lifetime of her fathers work into the ground...

"Ripe fruit and fresh vegetables for sale!"

"The finest cuts! Fresh from the wilds!"

The sound of the few merchants in the square made her stop and look up, if only to gather her bearings before moving on. So much recollection was putting her in a mood of heavy nostalgia, and she was eager to get back to work to clear it from her head. The blacksmith wasn't hard to find, sitting beside the gate just a short distance from the square. As she walked closer, she saw an imperial woman working at a grindstone, and assumed her to be Adrianne. Approaching, she couldn't help but be amazed at how the woman's strong arms worked the unfinished blade with ease, and how little the harsh grating or flying sparks seemed to bother her.

"Got some good pieces out here if you're looking to buy." The woman spoke up over her work, taking the sword off the stone and setting it to the side. Surprised that she'd been noticed without speaking up, Elanin waited for the woman to stand and dust off her apron before responding.

"I'm looking to purchase some armor. I'm with the Companions, and-"

"The Companions?" The woman repeated, sounding rather surprised and giving her a quick look over. Feeling somewhat offended by the reaction, she had to hold back a huff of annoyance. "Well, you should know that I offer a fine discount to the Companions. What are you looking for exactly?" Regaining herself, Elanin took a moment to think; what exactly was she looking for?

"I'm a close distance fighter, what do you recommend?" She asked, watching as the Imperial furrowed her brows in thought.

"Considering your stature, I'd suggest some light armor, but we're pretty low on supplies for such things right now..." Her voice trailed off for a moment, and then her eyes sparked with inspiration. "I have been working on a new piece of iron armor though, meant to be real light."

"Iron?" Elanin repeated, though without any of the woman's confidence.

"It's meant to be simple, and lighter as such. I'm sure it will be perfect for you." Going quiet for a moment, she considered the offer, and then realized that once more, she had few options.

"When can it be done?"

"I have much of the basics done already, so I need only to make specific adjustments. It shall be ready tomorrow morning." She promised, and Elanin nodded, quite pleased to hear she would not have to wait. Then she remembered she had come for more than armor.

"I'll be needing a weapon as well, preferably a short sword."

"I have many in the works to meet the demands of the war. It will be with your armor in the morning."

"And... the cost of all this?" Elanin asked, suddenly recalling that for the first time in her life, money was in short supply.

"A hundred and fifty gold will cover it all." The number both relaxed her nerves and made her nervous at the same time. Though it was a very minor amount for what she was purchasing and within her price range, it was still a very large sum of her gold, and left her with only ninety. Taking off her pack, she took out the pouches of gold, handing over the appropriate amount. Adrienne nodded as she looked over the agreed upon deal, dipping her head respectively. "Always an honor to serve the Companions."

As she walked back to Jorrvaskr, Elanin couldn't stop a smile of pride at the first recognition of authority she'd had in some time.

* * *

><p>"Skjor's looking for you."<p>

The words from Farkas greeted Elanin before she'd even closed the door behind her, and it took her a moment to register them.

"...Who?"

"Old man with one eye, he's down in the lower level." He explained, sounding patient as always with his explanation.

"Oh... What does he want?"

"Don't know. He just said he needed to talk to you before you do anything else."

"Alright. I'll go do that then..." She said a little awkwardly, going past and heading to the basement. Instantly, she began to wonder what she could possibly be wanted for. Surely she hadn't done anything wrong... had she? How could she have though, she'd only been here for around four days, and she was unconscious for two of those! Descending the stairs, she opened the door to the lower level, fully expecting that she'd have to search for this "Skjor".

"There you are."

She was not expecting to practically bump right into him. The old Nord wore a heavy suit of steel, embellished with what seemed to be traditional Nordic accents. His hair was gray with age and under each of his eyes was two fading lines, tattoos acting as permanent war paint. His left eye, however, was split by a scar, leaving it milky white and dead, and it took all of her willpower not to stare.

"You wanted to see me?" She asked, trying to keep all of her focus on his good eye.

"I did." He said with a nod, and his tone became more serious. "Your time, if seems, has come."

"I... what do you mean?"

"Yesterday a scholar came to us. He said we could find another fragment of Wuuthrad in Dustman's Cairn. He seemed a fool to me, but if he's right, the honor of the Companions demands we seek it out." Feeling more confused than before, Elanin could only ask simply.

"What does this have to do with me?"

"This is to be your Trial. It will be no simple task, and you have not been among our ranks for long, but we have no one more experienced to send. If you carry yourself with honor, you will be a true Companion." His tone became a little harsher, but not necessarily angry. "Farkas has already agreed to be your Shield-Sibling. Tell him of the assignment, and he'll answer any other questions. Try not to disappoint. Or get him killed."

"I won't." Was all she could say, though she was very unsure if she could keep that promise.

"Good. I expect you to deal with the matter quickly."

With that, she left to return to the upper level, hoping Farkas was nearby. She was halfway up the stairs when she paused, looking to her right as she recalled the display she'd seen on the first day she'd arrived. The fragmented object was still on display, and only now did they have any form of meaning. Were these other fragments of... Wuuthrad? If so, she still could not make out what the object was supposed to be. Walking the rest of the way, she found that Farkas was not in the hall, and she had to think for a moment before she had the idea to look outside. _I'm still not sure what to tell him... _She realized as she pushed the heavy wooden door open. _Will he even know where this... Dustman's Cairn is_? Stepping onto the shaded porch, she was a little startled to hear the heavy thud of metal against wood, and then she saw the source.

Farkas stood before one of the wood mounted stuffed training dummies, his greatsword in hand. With one heavy sweep, he struck at the fake targets neck, and the solid timbers cracked, but still held. As she carefully moved closer, Elanin shuddered at the noise, knowing that a real being would have been beheaded by such a powerful blow. With a cry of effort, Farkas swung one last time, and from her clear vantage point, she saw the wood give and snap, sending the dummies head rolling.

"What did Skjor want?" He asked, somehow knowing she was there and sheathing the blade on his back.

"He said it was time for my Proving, And you are to be my... Shield-Brother. Like you said." He turned as she explained, and seemed surprised by the news.

"Pretty soon for you to be going through your Proving. What did he say you're supposed to do?"

"We have to go to Dustman's Cairn, and retrieve a fragment of... Wuuthrad."

"So another fragment has been found." He said, sounding like he wasn't speaking to her. "I know the way, but it's a good distance from Whiterun. We'll need to be prepared. How soon do you think you can be ready?"

"Well... My new armor will be ready in the morning-"

"Then we leave tomorrow morning."

Tomorrow came faster than Elanin thought possible, and it felt like she had scarcely set her head on the pillow when a hand shook her to wakefulness. Shifting under the fur blankets, she looked up blearily, sharp elven eyes seeing clear despite the darkness. Farkas stood above her, fully armored and prepared to go, his sword and pack on his back.

"Your armor's here, it's time to get going." He informed her, voice quiet but not hushed. Sitting up, she looked around the dark, empty rooms at the occupant free beds. Why was she up so early again? Oh, of course...

"Come on, the earlier we get going, the earlier we get back. And it's going to be a long ride." Farkas urged, and she made herself get up from the warm furs and settle her feet into her boots.

"Where's the armor?" She slurred, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Gods, how early was it? Was the sun even out? She certainly hoped so, she'd never ridden in the dark.

"Tilma's bringing it." He replied. "I'm going to head out. Meet me at the stables when you're ready."

"Mhmm..." She murmured, barely awake enough to comprehend him. Sitting in a daze for a moment, she stretched her arms and legs, trying to get her blood flowing to wake her tired limbs.

"There you are dear. I've got everything you need here, all set to go." Films announced herself by stepping inside, her arms supporting two packages wrapped in simple leather. Standing, Elanin took them from her, and was more than a bit surprised when she felt the full weight. Startling, she recovered quickly enough so she didn't drop the items, but she couldn't imagine how such an old woman had managed to carry them with ease. "I'll leave you alone to get dressed then. Call me if you need anything."

"Okay..." Was all Elanin had time to say before the old woman left her alone, and she quickly deposited the heavy packages on the nearest bed. Remembering she was in a hurry, she unwrapped both to find her complete set of armor and sword. The weapon drew her attention first, and she lifted it for a closer inspection in the dark. The blade was of the Imperial style, simple and angular, with the only decoration being the small dragon symbol at the base of the blade. It was a little heavier than what she was used to, but she knew that would add weight to her attacks and make them stronger. The armor was something she'd never seen the likes of before. A broad, simple chest plate that divided in two for the front and back was the largest piece, and it took her a moment to realize she needed only to use the ties on the sides to put it on. Heavy padding on the inside offered extra protection, and it would fit well over her sleeveless shirt.

Fitting on the breast plate, she took a moment to adjust to the weight before she tied the straps, and hoped silently she would get used to it in time. The ties were a bit of a struggle to tie on her own, but she stubbornly refused to ask for aid, and was able to get it with some contorting. The lower section of the armor consisted of a layered fur battle skirt with iron plates on the sides to protect the important arteries in the thighs, and a number of belts to hold it all together. There was even a small satchel that attached to the back for storage, though she doubted she'd have much use for it. This section if the armor was easy enough to put on over her pants, but she couldn't deny the weight of it all pressing down on her, and she was forced to sit as she continued dressing. The boots and gauntlets were like any other, but much larger and heavier, and as she put the last piece on she became quite aware of the full weight of the set. It wasn't crushing, but she knew it was going to tire her out and wear her down, and she only hoped the protection it gave would make up for that.

Setting the scabbard about her waist and sheathing her sword, she shouldered her fully supplied pack, standing with a grunt of effort and going on her way. The heavy iron boots clunked loudly on the wooden floors, and she became very aware that sneaking would be a clear impossibility now. Climbing the stairs to the main hall, she was surprised when Tilma stopped her halfway to the door.

"Hold on dear, you'll need something in your stomach before you go." She advised, and handed her a simple loaf of bread. Thanking her, Elanin left and began eating as she went, despite not being hungry at all. When she opened the doors, she was greeted by a dark, cloudy sky and the faint pattering of a thin rain. Only a few guards patrolled that she could see, and the braziers that lit the town were left cold and dark in the rain. Swallowing the last of her meal, she pushed through the near drizzle of rain, feeling a faint chill on her exposed arms. The moody sky above did little to help pick up her mood, and as she walked through the nearly empty town and the deserted market stalls, she only felt more of the same. The rain came down a little harder as she kept going, and she increased her pace as she walked, heavy boots clanking on the stone. Only a single guard stood on watch beside the gate, and he let her through without question, holding aloft a barely burning torch in the increasingly heavy rain.

Hurrying down the damp path that led her to the stables, she took a moment to look out to the plains, and saw that visibility was restricted to maybe a few hundred feet in the dark weather. Gods, she was glad Farkas would be leading. Speaking of which, she could see him now outside the stables, with two horses beside him. Moving as quick as she dared on the wet path, realized as she got closer that the rain was already dying down.

"About time you got here." Farkas said as she approached, sounding a little impatient as he handed her the reins of the second horse; a young brown stallion. "We need to get moving. It's about a four hour ride, and I hope to be back before nightfall."

"Of course." She consented, watching him mount his own horse, a simple gray mare. With some hesitation, she did the same, struggling under the weight of her armor and the fidgety horse. Farkas wasted no time moving as soon she was on, and so she urged her mount to follow his lead. The young horse did as he was bid, but she noted its springy step and awkward gate with caution; this was clearly not an experienced animal. Hoping this wouldn't act against her, she sat in silence as Farkas led them along the path away from the city. The short Midyear rain had already ceased, and the fading stars peaked out between the clouds. As Farkas pushed his mount faster, she did the same, and they were off at a good pace.

A half hours journey put them beside a crumbling tower that she had thought abandoned at a distance, but upon closer inspection was manned a number of guards from the city. Though she could only imagine why a watchtower would be so far from the city, she decided it was best not to break the silence and just wonder in silence. This was a far different path than the one she'd taken last time, and as such, there were plenty of new sights. A moment of thought made her realize that she felt oddly at ease with herself, despite the fact that she was going up against completely unknown odds. She was still afraid, of course, just far more... in control. Was facing potential death only hard the first few times? Or did having a strong ally make that much of a difference? Regardless, she felt far more ready rather than afraid, and that alone comforted her a little.

An hour and a half later they came to the ruins of a great fort, and it was here they turned right. By the way her horse fidgeted, Elanin made the guess the crumbling place was not abandoned, though whoever was inside must not have deemed them worthy of ambush, and they passed in peace. Looking back, she saw that Whiterun was now a barely perceptible outline in the distance, and they now traveled parallel to it rather than away. They were approaching the base of where the mountains met the plains, and thus the scenery changed slightly. A few trees stood beside the path, though they were small and sparse. She'd lost track of the time when they reached a small stone bridge over a shallow stream still clinging to its morning fog, though judging by the height of the sun they were drawing close. It was odd how time seemed to disappear on the plains, and she often found herself dazing off for uncertain amounts of time. The faint clattering of mud crabs beneath the bridge attracted her attention for a moment, and she wrinkled her nose at the ugly little things scuttling through the muck.

"We're close." Farkas announced after hours of silence, and she looked about for any sign of their destination.

"Where?"

"At the top of that hill." He said, pointing to the spot not far ahead of their path. Looking where he directed, she felt only confusion when she saw nothing at all, save for some rocks. Biting her tongue, she only went along as they went off the main path to a secondary one, dismounting halfway to leave the horses amongst the shrubs.

"Shouldn't we tie them up?"

"They'll stay put unless they're attacked. And they know to run home when threatened."

"What do we do if that happens?"

"We walk."

"Oh." Not needing to say anything more, she followed him up the hill as they left the horses to graze. Looking past him, she realized upon closer inspection the rocks she'd seen before where not just tall boulders, but had clearly been shaped by the hand of Man or Mer. As they moved even closer she saw they were in a clear circle around something in the earth, though what she couldn't quite tell.

"Here it is." Farkas announced, stopping and looking down. "Dustman's Cairn." Coming up beside him, she stopped herself when she realized she was on the edge of a deep, circular pit. The hole had clearly been carved out and then supported by bricked walls to prevents collapse, with stone slabs forming stairs to the bottom. The sight drew a shudder from her, not so much for its crumbling, tomb like design, but from its aura. There was magic here; old, powerful, and of the likes of which she'd never felt. But she knew immediately it was not benign. Farkas, clearly not recognizing or ignoring the evil presence, went downward without hesitation. Pushing past the chill in her gut, she followed, keeping a hand on her swords hilt. The stone steps held firm beneath their weight, but that didn't ease her nerves as they reached the bottom, and what appeared to be an emptied iron casket leaned against the wall.

"Stay close, and keep your weapon out." Farkas warned, stepping past a burnt out brazier and drawing his sword. "No telling what's inside." Feeling the cold stab of fear, she did as she was told, standing behind as he pushed open a once beautifully carved but now rusted and worn door. The hinges moved surprisingly silently, and a rush of warm, musty air hit them both. Pushing inside, Farkas let the door close as they stepped into a lit, downward sloping tunnel. Goat horn candles, bearing fading enchantments, held bright and eternal candles to guide their path down. A heavy silence hung on the air, and her sharp ears picked up every single footsteps echo as they walked, coming quickly to the first room.

It was low ceilinged but wide, a stone table set up in the middle amidst the clutter and dust. Farkas went ahead, giving the room a quick scan.

"It looks like someone's been digging here. And recently." At first she had no idea what he meant, taking a look around for herself.

And then she saw the bodies.

They weren't fresh, in fact, she had no doubt they were just as old as the ruin. She counted three, all lying all on the stone floor beside great iron coffins in the walk that had recently been opened. They were unlike anything she'd ever seen, withered and dry with age but still well preserved. They sent fierce chills down her spine, and she kept her eyes focused forward to keep them out of her sight. A chest beside the table caught her eye, and she looked over to investigate.

"Pick the lock if you can." Farkas instructed. "No point in missing out on extra gold." Deciding it was best to save her mana, she fished a lock pick from her pack along with the knife to go with it. Sharp hearing and nimble fingers made lock picking come rather naturally to elves, though she had never tried it before, and thus was quite proud when she got it on the first turn. Looking inside, she was disappointed to find only a small sack of gold amidst the junk inside, but she stowed it in her pack regardless.

"Tread lightly." Farkas warned, keeping the lead as they moved on. The passage turned right and down, showing clear signs of rough and recent excavation. Stepping as lightly as her heavy boots allowed, she moved down the uneven path, noticing that it was now lit by recently placed torches. Her heart picked up its pace once more, sensing a danger in the place they couldn't yet see. Turning a left, they came to another room, and Farkas issued another warning as he stepped inside.

"Be careful around the burial stones. I don't wanna haul you back to Jorrvaskr on my back." Not understanding, she followed, and felt a stab of fear when something moved up ahead. She didn't have time to think before it charged around the corner, and her heart stopped for more than a few beats.

It was one of the corpses from the earlier room, except this one was very much undead. Wielding a rusty axe, the unholy thing charged with a animalistic growl, eye sockets glowing with an icy blue. Frozen like a rabbit before a fox, she only watched as Farkas met its charge, swinging his blade in a wide arc. The unarmored, shambling corpse was hit clear on, and fell to the ground. It didn't bleed from the wound, and went right back to picking itself up with snarls of rage. Farkas didn't give it the chance, chopping of its head in a neat swipe and sending it rolling, eyes going dim as it settled near Elanins feet.

"Look out!" The warning cry snapped her to reality almost a moment too late, and she had her sword up in a block the moment one came charging down a passage to her right. Its sword met hers with a surprising lack of force, and she was able to push it back with relative ease. The corpse bared yellow and broken teeth at her, bellowing in a thick, garbled language she couldn't possibly understand. Striking out on her own, she struck the rotting creatures throat, and was horrified to find it was like chopping through cloth, and about as effective. The dry skin didn't bleed, and the undead thing likely wouldn't have mourned the loss of blood anyway. Farkas came to her aid, driving his sword in between the shoulder and neck, splitting ancient bone and muscle. The damage was far too much for even the undead, and the light dimmed in its sockets as it fell.

"By all the Gods..." She gasped through a dry throat, stepping away from the evils things at her feet.

"Draugr." Farkas said simply, kicking the one he'd just killed and removing his sword. "Evil, but killable if you cause enough damage. Cutting off their heads works best." Nodding and catching her breath, she reminded herself that she had no choice but to continue, and so they moved on past the skeletons lying thankfully still in their crypts. The attack had put both on high alert, and the narrow catacombs made any corner a potential ambush.

As she quickly learned though, these creatures were likely not capable of ambush. The next one they came upon rested back against the wall, and woke when they drew close with a startle. It hadn't even had the chance to draw its sword before Farkas had run it through, letting it go still before dropping it to the floor. The sight made her feel a little at ease to know the things could be so easily killed, but their piercing aura of evil was impossible to ignore. When they came to a door, she was surprised to see it still sloped sharply downward, and she wondered how far down their journey would take them. Cutting through the unchecked spider webs, they came back to man made tunnels, and she tensed in case of more foes. They took a left, and instead of enemies, found themselves in the largest chamber yet.

The high, natural ceiling let in a beam of natural sunlight, and they descended the stairs to put themselves in the center of the room. The two solid chairs in the corner gave the appearance of an ancient throne room, but an enchanting alter and other fresh supplies hinted at far more recent occupancy.

"Strange..." Farkas muttered, looking around and inspecting the supplies. Elanin allowed herself to wander off for a moment, just as curious as him. The door that appeared to lead further on was blocked by a gate, leading her to a side chamber. Stepping inside, she found it to be empty save for two minor health potions and an equally small stamina potion, all of which she stored in her pack.

It was only when she was done that she noticed the lever.

For a moment, she only stared in contemplation. Perhaps pulling this would allow them to move on? There could be no harm in trying it to be sure, at least.

Settling one hand on the handle, she gave a sharp tug, and it clicked without too much force. There was an immediate clanking of gears, and she turned just in time to see the gate slam shut behind her. Feeling a surge of panic, she rushed to the bars and gave them a tug, finding them to be quite solid despite their age. Farkas walked over without much hurry, and much to her chagrin, sounded far more amused than worried.

"Now look what you've gotten yourself into." He mock scolded, and she huffed in annoyance and embarrassment. "No worries. Just sit tight and I'll find the release." Turning to do just that, he stopped in his tracks, and it was not until a moment later she realized why.

At least twenty armed men and women came pouring out into the room, surrounding him in what was a clear and textbook ambush. Elanin could only watch in hopeless dismay, not needing to be told that no single man or woman could take on so many foes at a time. And trapped as she was, she could only watch.

"It's time to die, dog." A man sneered.

"We knew you'd be coming here." Another added on as they began to circle like wolves.

"Your mistake, Companion."

"Which one is he?" One woman interrupted unsurely.

"It doesn't matter. He wears that armor, he dies."

"Killing you will make for an excellent story." The last one said gleefully as they began to close in. Farkas stood still, his blade calmly at his side, and for a moment she thought he was giving in.

When he spoke, he did so almost coolly.

"None of you will be alive to tell it."

And then be began to grow.

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><p>More cliffhangers... always cliffhangers... I don't even <em>llike<em> writing cliffhangers! But otherwise this chapter would have been well over 10,000 words, so I suppose it's for the best. As always, thank you for reading, and feel free to leave a review or some (nice!) advice!


	11. Chapter 11

Wow, this one certainly makes up for all the other short chapters, doesn't it? I apologize if it's a little _too_ long, I just couldn't find a good cutting point that didn't create another rushed cliffhanger. It still flows a little awkwardly, but I do believe it's still enjoyable, though that's entirely up to you the reader. Regardless, here it is, the somewhat on schedule and very long chapter 11. I'm looking forward to future chapters and being able to move away from the plot more, but this one still fits a set up fairly well.

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><p>Elanin watched, transfixed in horrified awe, as Farkas transformed.<p>

Stooping over with a sound of what might have been equal parts pain and effort, he let out a series of growls that became deeper as he grew. Fur and dark flesh rippled over his skin and armor in waves as his muscles and bones audibly cracked and shifted. Fingers sharpened into pointed claws on padded palms as his legs twisted and formed broad paws in the place of feet. A tail formed as he continued to grow and take his final shape, standing two feet taller and several hundred pounds heavier. A fully animal snarl rose from his throat as the transformation finished, and he threw his snout back to let out a mighty roar, reveling in raw power as only a beast could. Even in her haze of terror, Elanin knew what he had become.

A werewolf.

Now free of their paralyzing terror, some of the men and woman charged, breaking ranks to attack from all sides. The beast roared back its challenge, striking at the first two foolish enough to charge its front. It struck out with one paw, catching them both and hurling them back with unnatural strength to crash against the stone wall. The other attackers were wiser, and attacked from the sides and behind, yet their weapons did little except nick at the thick hide. Howling with rage, the wolf turned and grabbed three, one in each hand and a third by the shoulder in its jaws. The first two were merely tossed at their companions, but the third the beast held firm. Like a child with a tough loaf of bread, it grabbed hold with its claws and mouth to tear the victim in two, splintering bones and spattering gore before the unfortunate target could even scream. Enraged at the losses, the enemies charged full out, and the ensuing fray became nothing more than a mass slaughter.

Slashing and tearing with tooth and claw, the beast tore the opponents to shreds, slicing through armor and flesh until the stone floors were slick with blood. Elanin wasn't even sure the battle had lasted more than a few minutes before the wolf was tearing the head off the last one, letting it fall to the ground like a doll. Panting in mild exertion, the beast surveyed the gore about its paws for a moment, its back to her as it shook off some of the blood. Pausing, it turned its slick muzzle back to face her, and she felt a stab of terror at the thought that it might view her as a threat. But, to her relief and surprise, there was no malice in the blue eyes, and it dropped on all fours to run out of sight. Letting out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding, she clutched her breast plate, almost swearing she could feel her heart thudding beneath. Getting a hold on her whirling thoughts, she processed what she'd just seen, and took a moment to wonder if it was real. Had that beast _really_ been Farkas? How could any sentient creature become so twisted and savage and still retain their humanity? But his eyes... They'd been the same icy blue; carrying what might have been a glimmer of intelligence.

The gates slid upward without warning, and she jumped back in alarm, lifting her sword defensibly. Approaching footsteps made her tense, but she wasn't sure whether to be relaxed or further alarmed when a disheveled but fully human Farkas came around the corner. Stepping over the bodies, he approached almost casually, no longer coated in the blood and gore of battle. Still wary, she didn't make any attempt to move closer to him, but he didn't seem to take offense.

"I hope I didn't scare you." He teased, likely having expected such a reaction. A little concerned by his calmness, it took her some time to find her tongue.

"What did you do?"

"I became a werewolf." He replied simply, saying it so casually it almost sounded like he was joking. "It's a blessing given to some of us." Not needing clarification as to who he was referring to, she suddenly felt even more alarmed.

"Are _all_ of the Companions werewolves?"

"Oh, no. Only the Circle have Beastblood." He said, sounding like it was obvious. _The Circle... _She could guess at who that likely included of the ones she'd met so far. A shudder nearly passed down her spine when she realized that she had been around them without having the slightest clue to their true nature. "It's a secret to everybody." Farkas finished, looking a little awkward as he realized that was no longer the case.

"I won't speak of it." She assured, though she doubted anyone would have believed her at all.

"Good."

"Who were they?" She asked, trying to keep her focus on him and away from the mangled bodies and their growing stench of death.

"The Silver Hand. A guild of werewolf hunters who don't like the Companions." She was surprised by the rare tone of anger in his voice, and still being quite alarmed by his transformation, she decided to steer away from the topic.

"You're not going to make me a werewolf, are you?" A welcome rush of relief came to her as he shook his head.

"This is just your trial for the Companions. Kodlak decides if you're worthy of the Circle." Looking out the opened door, he gestured for her to follow. "We'd better get moving. Now we've got these and Draugr to worry about." Following, but now at a healthy distance, Elanin left the mangled corpses behind and worked on getting her focus back to the mission. They entered another tunnel, passing the lever he'd obviously pulled to release her from the side chamber. A strange mist hung about the aging stone, and large mounted statues that had once lined the walls now leaned inward without support. Going by the lights of the numerous candles and the occasional wall mounted torches and braziers, they moved on without hindrance. It was hard to focus on that though, when all she could really think about was that the man before her was a werewolf, and fully content to be as such. How had he even gotten that way? Weren't werewolves the servants of Hircine? The possibility of a pact with the Deadric lord seemed very possible, and it made her very sure to keep distance between herself and Farkas as they walked through the winding tunnels.

Eventually, they rounded a corner to find a fully carved hallway in the stone, with delicate, swirling patterns twisting along the walls. What truly attracted their attention was the two men, clearly more of the Silver Hand, talking at the end of the hall. Pushing her back behind the corner so they were out of sight, Farkas kept his voice low.

"Guards. Looks like they're not expecting company." He whispered, turning to her and keeping his sword lifted in preparation. "I'll charge and take the one with the sword. You take care of the archer."

"Right." She said, surprising herself with how confident she sounded. Farkas turned around the corner, letting out a battle cry as he charged at the opponents. Following at a distance, she watched as his attack drew the attention of both the surprised guards, and he met the sword wielder head on. The archer remained at the very end of the hall, notching an arrow to fire. Feeling a little sick of archers after her last encounter, she charged with a vengeance, catching him off guard and striking out to splinter the bow. Being a wood elf, the man was quick enough to draw a dagger in time to strike out and stop her from finishing him off. Thinking quickly, she tried something new, striking forward with the flat of her blade to catch him square on the nose. A sick crack told her it had worked, and he was dazed by the pain long enough for her to plunge the blade through his fur armor, spattering heavy droplets blood onto the front of her breast plate.

She didn't look at him as she pulled her sword free, and instead turned to Farkas, who was pulling his own blade out of the others middle. The sight unnerved her, but not as much as it should have, which was alarming in itself. Nothing needed to be said as they continued on, coming to another broad chamber. This one was empty and plain save for more torches to keep it lit, and two more tombs lining the wall across from a dusty skeleton. The room carried more of the wicked vibes from before, and she couldn't stop a conspicuous shudder.

"Something wrong?" Farkas asked, looking back over his shoulder and slowing the pace.

"Oh... Nothing, I only..." She stopped, not realizing she'd been so obvious and having to think of how to explain. "I can feel magic here." She began simply, looking around the dusty room and eyeing the broken skeleton as they passed it. "It's not like anything I've ever encountered. It is old and powerful... and very unnatural."

"How can you tell?" He questioned, sounding casually interested.

"All creatures can detect mana with training." She explained, stopping when she realized the statement might have been offensive. Either he didn't take it that way or did not care to respond, but she took his silence as permission to continue. "But High Elves are different. We don't just sense it. We... interpret it." A part of her realized then that she'd never had to explain this before, mostly due to the fact that nearly everyone she'd ever known had been Altmer. The thought made her consider that the other races had no such feelings, and she had to wonder what it'd be like to feel so... cut off from the natural forces. "I can feel how mana is altered to give shape to different spells, and the unique energy given off by the various types of magic. I thought I had experienced all the essentials, but this... this is otherworldly..."

"Never knew that." He remarked simply, not sounding overly floored or impressed. The reaction ordinarily would have offended her, but for the first time in her life she found that what someone else thought of her wasn't important at the moment. They reached the end of the chamber to exit through a broad door, and were greeted by more catacombs filled with ancient corpses. Most were skeletons, but a few still held onto their dried out muscles and flesh, so she eyed them warily. They turned right and found another door, opening it to find themselves in and two leveled stone chamber, with various supplies and artifacts lining the walls.

"What was that?" A feminine voice told them they were not alone, and Farkas charged in without hesitation. A fully armed Nord woman charged with a great sword of her own, and the two powerful warriors locked blades. An arrow whisked past his head, and Elanin looked up to see a second one on the upper level with a bow. Knowing Farkas was occupied, she took it upon herself to charge, crossing the room and stepping over the bodies of several recently killed Draugr. Realizing her intent, the archer let loose an arrow just as soon as she reached the base of the sloppily put together wood and stone stairs. Fully expecting to feel the painful dig of an arrowhead, she faltered when the only sign of a hit was the faint _ping_ of the weapon against her solid armor as it was deflected. Gaining confidence from the save, she charged the rest of the way, turning to meet him behind the wooden supports where he'd taken shelter. Though he was cornered, the man still attempted to fire one last arrow, but was stopped by her sword meeting his throat. She made the mistake of locking eyes with him as he died, and she felt the hot rush of his blood against her gloved hands as his life faded in a flash. Shivering with disgust, she pulled the sword free, turning to see Farkas climbing the stairs looking equally bloodied.

"We'll need to wash some of this off." He said simply, and she nodded numbly, feeling the sticky liquid cooling. Moving forward past a number of unsealed tombs in the ground, they found the body of a Silver Hand warrior beside a slain Draugr.

"So they're fighting each other. Good to know." Farkas remarked. They managed to find some ancient rolls of cloth beside the bodies, and though it was rough, Elanin managed to clean the blood from her gloves to ensure she'd have a good grip. The next room they entered was in rough shape; a gaping hole in the ceiling allowed sunlight to keep the room illuminated, and all kinds of plant life were creeping down and spreading to take advantage of the glow. Descending the stairs, she noticed an alter like table to their right, and moved to investigate. A number of odd tools lay scattered about beside a sword and human skull, but what truly gained her interest was the gold and potions.

"No sense in leaving these, yes?" She questioned, and he responded with a nod. Grabbing the ten or so coins, she slipped them into her pack beside the potions, which included two health and one magicka. Taking a quick count, that totaled seven health, two stamina, and one magicka. It was a good amount, but she knew all too well that minor small potions lost their effectiveness when used in quick succession. Something of a higher tier would certainly have been better than all the others put together. Slipping the bag back on, she followed Farkas through the door, suddenly wondering how long they'd been underground and how much longer it would be.

A crumbling, misty hallway of catacombs gave her the feeling it would not be soon, and she kept her senses alert for more enemies. Turning left, they moved through the narrow path, past crumbling supports and bodies that had been disturbed and moved by the collapses. Keeping her eyes on the bodies as they turned a left, she suddenly wondered what exactly drove them to wake. Surely some of the corpses here were intact enough to be fully functioning Draugr, so why weren't they? There was magic in them, pulsing faintly in their unrest, so perhaps it simply hadn't been activated? Unsure about what it would take to wake them, she decided it was a question that was best left unanswered. Not realizing she'd wandered a little ahead, she took another right, and was not prepared for what came at her.

"By Ysmir, you won't leave here alive!"

The Silver Hand warrior charged, clearly having been waiting in ambush, and set the tip of his great sword forward. Not expecting the attack and not being in a position to block, she would have been run through if Farkas hadn't intervened, jumping in front and locking blades with the attacker. There was a brief struggle of strength where both sides fought to throw the other back to gain the advantage, though it quickly became clear that Farkas would be the victor. Snarling with effort, he pushed forward and staggered the other Nord, lifting his sword high and bringing it down to crush into the mans chest, shattering the sternum and everything beneath. Though she turned away, she still heard the last few rasping chokes before there was silence, and it was then that Farkas spoke.

"Always be wary of corners." He instructed, sounding as calm as usual. "They're perfect for ambush." With that, he started forward again, and she followed, this time careful to stay behind. That was what, the second, maybe third time he'd saved her life? With luck, she might be able to stop that number from growing...

The path dipped downward after that, lit dimly by dusty candles high among the carved holes filled with skeletons. As they turned left and found the exit, another freshly killed Draugr marked a very recent skirmish. Remembering the encounter mere minutes ago, Elanin held her sword close, determined to be ready as they opened the door.

A part of her felt a growing impatience as they opened the door to yet another broken down, collapsing chamber. This one overrun with vegetation from the sunlight poking through the cracked ceiling. The other end was obscured by a collapsing wall that had once divided the two rooms, but the faint sound of voices told them they were not alone. Taking the advantage, Farkas hurried forward without a word, and she followed just behind. Passing to the other side, they nearly stumbled into the two Silver Hand resting around a fire lit in the remains of the brazier. Before the surprised enemies could even stand, Farkas had dispatched one with a clean swipe to the neck, taking off his head in the process. Elanin followed the example, delivering a quick blow to the back of the seconds neck before she could even draw her bow.

With that over, they continued on the same as before, leaving the chamber to enter a hallway to their right that dipped sharply downward. Minding the smoothly worn steps, she was too focused on not tripping to notice Farkas stopping dead in his tracks, and nearly bumped into his back.

"Take a look." He instructed, and she moved to the side to observe the object at his feet. On the broadest step, a smooth round stone marked with twisting patterns lay embedded in the rock. "Pressure plate trap. If you step on it, you won't live long enough to know what killed you." Committing the objects appearance to memory, she kept a safe distance from it as they reached the bottom, and a heavy iron door stood before them. Unlike all the others, this one was solid metal, and beautifully embellished with carvings and accents.

"To the lower levels." Farkas remarked, pushing it open. "We're getting close."

_Finally_. She thought to herself, growing a little tired from lugging around her equipment and feeling the first rumbles of hunger.

As the door opened, the rush of air that greeted them reeked of musk and decay, and the open hallway before them seemed to press down on all sides. Still they moved on to the next door, but they had not gone halfway before she stopped with alarm.

"Do you hear that?" She whispered, straining her sharp ears. The faint clangs and shouts of battle became clear, though the exact location couldn't be determined.

"Aye. It's probably ahead of us." Moving cautiously, he opened the door, and they were confronted with an odd sight. Rather than a hallway, the path ahead was an elevated walkway high above the floor below, with cage like iron surroundings to prevent one from falling. They looked down just in time to see the tail end of a battle between a dozen Draugr and Silver Hand, with five of the former finishing of the last of the survivors. The moment it was done, the undead turned their gazes upward, growling at the sight of two more enemies and charging into another tunnel in an attempt to reach them.

"Just keep going!" Farkas ordered, running forward. "We'll meet them head on!" Following the command, she ran to the end of the walkway and entered another tunnel, staying behind Farkad as they twisted and turned. Entering another section of catacombs, they kept up the pace, not knowing when they would meet their enemies.

A lone Draugr, standing over the corpse of a Silver Hand, turned to meet them as they ran. Not stopping, Farkas used his momentum to strike, taking off its head with one clean hit and still going. Animalistic growls and garbled cries in an ancient tongue told them they were close, and they moved through the winding tunnels expecting to see the enemies around every corner.

They found them at last in another broad chamber, the whole group standing at the bottom of a rickety wooden stairway and waiting for them. Farkas dove right in, sprinting down the stairs and meeting two fully armed enemies head on. Elanin ran in a little more cautiously, choosing one that had lost an arm in its recent battle and badly damaged its legs. With a battle cry of her own, she ran in and chopped at the other arm, the aged, dry skin giving away easily and letting the other limb fall to the floor. Now harmless, the Draugr hissed angrily, speaking in a gargled but almost perceptible language.

"Aav Dilon!" Unsure and uncaring of the meaning, she took off its head and turned to face the next. Like the other, this one was badly damaged, and was easily dispatched by a sword to its shriveled heart. Turning to Farkas, she fully expected to see him standing over the remaining three, but was shocked to see him struggling against two well armed Draugr with a third preparing to strike at his back. Not having time to think, she ran in, bashing the pommel of her blade against the enemies temple. Though it wasn't too fazed by the attack, its surprise left her ample time to bury her blade into the side of its ribs, going so deep the tip poked through the other side. Yanking it free with effort, she turned and bashed the flat of the blade against the other Draugrs skull, though immediately regretted the act when its solid helmet clanged at the impact and sent painful vibrations up to her hands. It gave Farkas all the opportunity he needed though, and before she'd even recovered he had already chopped down the two attackers.

The fading adrenaline made her very aware of a sudden heavy fatigue from the efforts, and she realized then that she was sweating beneath her armor, her breath coming in huffs as she settled her hands on her knees. Looking around at the slain enemies, she stood after catching her breath, finding Farkas to be waiting for her at the door.

"Thanks for that." He said simply, moving on without another word. Following, she found herself in the largest chamber they'd been in so far, obviously the resting place of great warriors. The Silver Hand lay scattered and still, surrounded by the Draugr they'd managed to take with them. Careful not to disturb the bodies, she followed Farkas to the end of the room and the great door. When he tested it, it didn't move, and he announced the problem the moment she realized it.

"Locked. And too heavy to break." Looking around the vast chamber, he moved to examine the alters between each of the tombs. "Looks for keys, buttons or levers. There's always a way past." Watching him go to the right of the room, she went left, going for a large and ornamental chest. It was unlocked, and she pushed open the top to find a potion, a small sack of gold, and, to her relief, a simple flat iron key of the proper size.

"I've got it." She announced, going back to the door. Fitting the key in, she felt the proper components click when it turned, and the heavy doors swung inward on their own. No sooner had they opened all the way than did she catch sight of the two Skeevers standing not ten feet away. The giant, mangy rats growled and hissed at the intruder, frothing at the edge of their yellowed fangs and opening their beady eyes wide. Scuttling forward, one sprang at her in a catlike pounce, tiny claws held out to strike. Acting more out of a strange instinct than thought, she held out her sword point first, and the short sighted vermin found itself impaled by the throat. Flicking it off the blade, she turned to the next, which darted back and forth to avoid being hit. Knowing that its bite held a plethora of potentially deadly diseases, she kept her distance. But upon recalling that her boots were quite thoroughly armored, she merely shrugged and gave the pest a kick, knocking it back long enough for her to finish it with one stab.

"Ugly things." Farkas commented, coming up behind her and surveying the damage. "They're typically a sign that other beasts are around. Be on your guard." _Other beasts? We're quite far underground, what could we possibly run into?_ Moving down the winding tunnel, she caught the faint smell of rot and decay, though of what she couldn't be sure. When they found a room bearing a dozen or so wrapped mummies, they found two more Skeevers, though Farkas dealt with both of the rabid pests before she could even react. Looking about the circular room, she found one of the potential exits had been blocked by a cave in, leaving them with one door to choose from. When it was opened, she wasn't surprised to see a very natural looking tunnel, though the nasty, musty smell only grew stronger.

They walked forward at the same pace, finding no sign of trouble until they turned right and nearly bumped into the Frostbite Spider.

The beast raised its hooked forelegs and struck outward, forcing them both to jump back to avoid the hit. This one was bigger than the ones she'd fought before, and no less terrifying, but she knew their weakness now. With her free hand, she formed a fist and stepped back, willing forth a supply of mana. Though her gloves made it a little tricky, she had the fire spell ready to go in moments, and she held forth her palm to let it loose on the oversized arachnid. The flames whooshed out over the monsters broad head, engulfing all eight of its eyes and catching hold onto its hairy back. Remembering her last battle with the beasts, she wasted no time chopping off limbs and instead dove right in to impale its head as it screeched and writhed in agony. The sharpened metal crunched through solid exoskeleton and into the soft, squishy insides that made up the brain, reducing the monster to nothing but a twitching pile of burning limbs. Pulling her sword from the mess and finding it slick with black ichor, she realized then that Farkas had not aided in the assault at all, and she turned to him in concern. He stood rooted to the spot, immobile as a statue and staring at the now dead spider. But it wasn't a look of rage or victory that he held still.

It was one of pure terror.

"Farkas?" She said to break the silence, feeling both awkward and concerned. The sound brought him around, and he shuddered before regaining the color in his cheeks.

"I'm fine." He clipped, starting forward without any explanation and picking a cautious way around the corpse. Wordlessly, she followed, perceiving that his steps were slower now. He was afraid, she could see that clearly now, almost deathly so. But why? Regular spiders sent chills up her spine as well, but Frostbites were easy enough to kill so long as they didn't outnumber or vastly outweigh you. Not wanting to question the issue, she walked a little ahead, and he made no attempt to stop her. They went in through a tunnel so narrow that they had to walk in a row, and she kept a fire spell ready in her free hand as they moved through the twisting path. A light breeze pushed past them, giving her the thought that a much more open chamber lay ahead. And these creatures were likely not to live alone...

Her theory proved to be correct, for they stepped into a wide, natural chamber riddled with holes to allow sunlight in. Just like the last best she'd been in, the ground and walls were coated in a layer of sticky webbing, with tendrils dangling from the ceiling and twisting between the walls. Bulging egg sacs lay spread about without plan, and they encountered a number of hatchlings immediately. Most scattered and fled to their tunnels in the webs, but one remained behind, ferociously bearing its forelimbs. This one, however, was no bigger than a chicken, and she decided to spare it her blade and instead smash it beneath it her boot. It twitched once before dying, and she was relieved to see no more enemies in sight. Leading the way, Elanin turned left, seeing a hole in the ceiling just a little way ahead where a waterfall was pouring through, and the spider webs stopped there. Moving closer, she saw that the water into a stream that split the cavern, though a man made bridge allowed them to cross over and back again to rejoin the path.

A long, open tunnel stretched before them once more, and she felt a bit relieved that they'd encountered no more spiders. Seeing Farkas in such a way was not a comforting sight, and she sincerely hoped not to see it again any time soon. Moving on with only the sound of her footsteps, she nearly groaned as they entered another section of catacombs. How many hundreds of bodies were entombed here? And more importantly, why? Not knowing anything of ancient Nordic rituals, she focused on moving down the sloping, corpse flanked path. It dipped upward before turning left, and they were once more at another door. This one was like the one they'd used to enter the crypt, though unweathered and still as skillfully carved as the day it had been made.

"This is it." Farkas announced, taking the lead once more to push the doors open. "Prepare yourself."

Yet another grand chamber lay before them, though this one had yet to truly succumb to the wear of time. The entryway was narrow, but the rest of the room beyond was broad and built into gradually elevating tiers so that the highest corner was at the opposite end. Magical fires burned bright in great bowls hanging from the ceiling, as well as in braziers that lit each level of the room. But as they drew closer, she saw the tombs lined up on every side in perfect symmetry, and she realized it was here the magic she was strongest. When she reached the halfway point, she saw that a single coffin had been placed in the very center if the room betwixt two eternally burning flames. It was there she became aware of a faint sound, like a deep, primal drumbeat humming in the air. It gave her a sense of peace, and she walked forward at its gentle tug. Beyond the coffin, on the highest level of the room, there was a broad stone alter with its corners carved into the iron heads of dragons. The sound became louder now, and the pull stronger, sending her into a haze so she walked past the alter without even examining its contents.

Just behind the alter was a stone wall, curved into a gentle U-shape to form a partial ring. It stretched high to the ceiling, bearing lovingly inscribed Nordic swirls for decoration and a great iron crest in the upper center. But what drew her in was the lowest half, a slab of stone undecorated save for a great number of simple scratches set up like writing. She'd never seen the symbols before, but there was an immediate connection in her very soul, and she moved even closer. The sound was pounding in her ears now, and as she stood before the wall, a single collection of the nonsensical letters seemed to pull her in. The rest of her vision faded out, and the word seemed to glow bright, becoming the only thing she could see; the only thing that _mattered_. It reached out to her, filling her mind with images and sensations she'd never known. The very essence of the word was being transferred to her, and with it came the feeling of fire, in its purest form. Flames danced before her vision, twisting and curling amongst nothingness to form a single, perfect word.

_Yol_.

And then the world came rushing back, and she realized she was on her knees before the stone wall, with Farkas standing a little awkwardly behind.

"You... okay?"

"Fine." She rasped, suddenly dizzy as she rose to her feet and tried to come to terms with what she'd seen. Knowing better than to speak it, she tried to return to the matter at hand, though she was hardly focused. "Is the fragment here?"

"Right here." He said, pointing to it on its stand on the alter. Looking at it, she suddenly found it hard to believe that they'd come all the way for something so simple. It was just a squarish fragment of iron roughly the size of her palm, bearing some indistinguishable designs. Farkas, however, treated it with a kind of reverence as he wrapped it in a cloth and stowed it in his pack. It meant something to him, clearly, so she decided not to speak.

"Let's look around for a way out. There's usually a quicker way to get back to the-"

Several heavy cracks rang out and echoed in the chamber as two of the tombs, one close and one on the far side, were forced open, their iron lids crashing against the stone floor. For a moment after, everything was silent, she and Farkas standing still to await what happened next. The occupants of the unsealed tombs stepped out, fully armored and with one very clear intent. They charged without hesitation, the closest posing the nearest threat as it hefted a heavy axe. Farkas charged forward to meet it, and she did the same, going for the other coming from the far end. It wielded an ancient sword of its own, and she stopped to a halt as soon as she was in range. Striking out for a blow to the head, the Draugr moved with good power but little skill, much like one would expect of a creature with no conscious thought. Blocking the hit, she found it remarkably easy to disarm the foe with a simple wrist movement, carrying with the momentum to chop off its lower arm.

Snarling at the loss of its limb and sword, the Draugr launched itself at her, teeth bared and skeletal fingers ready to claw. Stepping back and to the side, she let it stumble past, slicing into the back of the neck and severing the spine. As it fell, she turned back to Farkas, seeing him standing over the defeated enemy. She'd just begun to mentally congratulate herself on the job well done when four more caskets released four more enemies. Two came from the passageway just in front of her, and the others from behind, who went for Farkas.

One of the two that charged her held a heavy wood and iron shield, leaving her with mere moments to plan a way around the defense. Remembering her encounter with the spider, she pulled mana from her still rather plentiful supply, deciding on fire as being the best method. Holding out her hand as it came within less than ten feet, she released a relentless spray of flames, catching both of the charging Draugr. To her horror, the attack did little more than stumble them, though the flames spread quickly over their dry skin and left them burning from head to toe.

Marvelous. _Flaming _undead.

Bracing herself, she blocked the attack from the first Draugr's sword, keeping herself as far away from the burning arm as possible. The second came in to chop with its axe, and it was only by awkwardly breaking her block and sidestepping that she was able to avoid the hit. The creatures were slow to adjust to the change, leaving her enough time to carefully drive her blade into the sword bearers unprotected middle. The Draugr turned to face her, tearing a gash into its own stomach. Pulling back as it bashed out with the shield, she noted that while the flames weren't _hurting _the enemies, they were doing damage, shriveling and blackening their dry flesh steadily but surely. She needed only to wait then, until enough damage was done. Stepping back, she moved towards the entrance to the chamber, and the two Draugr followed after in a shamble. The fire was doing its damage, that much was clear to see from their stumbling gait.

"Faaz! Paak! Dinok!" One cursed at her in its forgotten tongue, a sickening crack coming from its knee as the weakened joint buckled and it fell. Far more able to deal with the still walking but weakened one, she let it get in close, blocking its axe strike. Throwing off the weapon to make her own opening, she stabbed forward and downward into the ribcage. Though it had time to let out a snarl, the Draugr died for good quickly, letting her go back and finish its fallen companion with a jab to the back of the neck. Turning back to Farkas, she saw that he'd dealt with the other two, and she moved back to his side.

"Are you hurt?" He asked.

"No."

"Good. Because I've got a feeling this isn't over." As if his words were the cue, the remaining coffins all burst forth at once. A feeling of terror wormed through her gut as she beheld the odds, more than ten Draugr from all corners of the room, approaching slowly with the confidence of victory. Looking to Farkas, she saw no outward traces of fear as he eyed the approaching enemy, and he spoke calmly. "You watch my back, I'll watch yours." Seeing his strategy, she turned her back to his, holding her sword in one hand and taking a defensive stance.

"Okay."

The Draugr came in from all different sides, brandishing a plethora of weapon and armor varieties but sharing a single goal. Elanin prepared herself as best she could, but their attack came in a wave that all but overwhelmed her. At all angles they slashed and hacked at her, and it was all she could do just to keep them at bay. Her vision seemed to become nothing but a haze of rotting skin and flashing blades, but still she countered every hit. A rhythm formed in her mind as she steadily found a pattern in her attacks, and she occasionally found the freedom to take one or two jabs at her enemies between blocks. A part of her knew that taking down just one would increase her chances greatly, but focusing on delivering the one needed blow was a luxury she didn't have. A stroke of fortune provided the much needed window, and one lucky chop took off an offenders weapon wielding arm, reducing her need for defense.

A sudden, sharp pain across the top of her forearm from a connecting hit made her falter, if only for a moment to recover and make sure it wasn't too bad. A second attack made it through in her few seconds of distraction, but the poorly aimed axe was merely knocked off the solid breastplate. Recovering, she kept her bleeding arm close to avoid another hit, striking out with a much clearer goal. Instead of aiming for more difficult kill shot, she settled for disarming her enemies, cutting off fingers and arms whenever an opportunity presented itself. It was not long before the ground was littered with chopped of limbs and hands, and she saw her first chance to lower the number of enemies. The Draugr standing before her had just dropped its sword and was defenseless, allowing her to get in quick with a jab, aiming for its throat but instead stabbing between the eyes as it shifted suddenly. Regardless, its glowing eyes went dull and it toppled to the side, tripping up one of its comrades, much to her good fortune. Though she was a rather out of breath by this point, the fight was turning in her favor, and she cut down two more with precise slashes.

She was about to deal with the last when a huge blade came from the side, finishing it off for her with a clean stabbing. Farkas freed the sword, not sounding quite as breathless as she was but still clearly drained from his efforts. With the adrenaline fading, she felt the cut on her arm more fiercely than before, and she lifted it for inspection. It wasn't too deep or bleeding too badly, but it hurt all the same.

"You wounded?" Farkas questioned, turning and seeing the blood on her arm.

"Nothing too bad." She assured, remembering the state she'd been in after fighting the bandits. "I've got bandages, and a health potion should-"

Neither one was prepared for the sudden boom as the middle sarcophagus burst open, the lid flying high and crashing to the floor with considerable force. A single Draugr climbed out, though this one was clearly the greatest of them all. Fiery locks of braided red hair hung from his head and chin, still perfectly preserved despite eons underground. A full set of heavy Nordic armor, black and glinting beside the fires, moved with him as if he'd been born into it. And his sword, wickedly long and beautifully crafted, shone as sharp as the day it had been made. The most intimidating feature was the eyes though, which still held some level of intelligence in their pulsing glow.

"One last fight, it seems." Farkas murmured, still a little out of breath as he began sizing the enemy up.

"Quiilaan aas Dilon!" It yelled, lifting its sword in an obvious challenge. Farkas accepted, running forward and locking blades with the captor. Moving to the side, she searched for an opening to get in quick and strike, biding her time until she realized that Farkas was losing the battle of strength. Already worn out from the last battle, he was pushed steadily backward by the Draugr, who stood as solid as a stone wall. Not hesitating but mindful of her injured arm, she ran in to stab the enemies exposed neck, and it turned its head to face her before shouting a garbled word in its own tongue.

"_Fus_!"

The roaring shout sent a wall of pure force in her direction, knocking her on her back and leaving her in a daze. Disoriented, she sat up to find the room spinning and her ears ringing, and her sword no longer in her hand. Clutching her head, she wobbled unsteadily as she pulled herself to her feet, trying to focus on finding her weapon. Managing to get a hold of herself, she found it only a short distance away, reclaiming it and turning back just in time to see the Draugr push Farkas back and stumble him. He wasn't out for long, but the Draugr was able to get in a quick cut, slicing his upper arm and leaving a good sized gash in the flesh. Without having time to think, she ran in to deliver another blow and stop the Draugr from landing a more critical hit. Either it didn't expect or didn't see her, but she was able to get in and stab at its completely unprotected knee. Cutting right into bone and cartilage, she forced the leg to buckle, leaving its owner hobbling on one.

Snarling, it struck out wildly, slapping the flat of the blade against the side of her head and leaving her dazed once more. Pulling back out of its range, Elanin clutched her now throbbing head, feeling a sticky wetness where she'd been struck. Opening her eyes, she saw that Farkas had recovered, clutching the bleeding wound in one hand and managing his sword in the other. But the Draugr was still focused on her, and was too intent on hobbling closer to protect its back. With clear difficulty, Farkas lifted the sword with one hand and held it high before plunging it at the enemies neck.

The Draugr turned as it heard him, but only to watch the sword crush its way into what used to be its windpipe and jugular. A gargled cry came from the enemy as the heavy blade sunk deeper below the collarbone and into the ribcage, creating far too much damage for the cursed corpse to keep functioning. Farkas let the sword drop with the body, and after it fell to the floor a new silence descended over the corpse littered chamber.

Realizing it was over, Elanin allowed herself to sit down on the stone, out of breath and sporting a few new injuries. Huffing, she took out her pack, rooting out a health potion with her good arm and lifting it to down its contents. Stopping herself, she looked down at the cut on her arm and wondered if it might be better to try her own hand at healing it. The wound was small enough, and she had enough mana, so why not? Closing her eyes, she put herself in the necessary mindset for restoration, which required a clear head and calm thoughts. Feeling the restorative properties gaining energy and form, she lifted her injured arm to the cut on her head, allowing the magic to flow to the necessary areas. Opening her eyes, she kept her concentration as she watched the flesh colored tendrils emanating from a gently humming and glowing sphere in her hand, the wispy ribbons caressing her injuries and filling her with a soothing warmth. The spell ended on its own, allowing her to wipe clean the previously bleeding wound to see that it was now nothing more than a long scab, and the cut on her head was the same. It would still be a little while before they fully healed, but it was certainly better than the way they were before. Looking over at Farkas, she saw that he'd bandaged the cut on his upper arm, and was retrieving his sword.

"Are you alright?" He asked, seeing her watching him.

"Fine." She couldn't stop herself from eyeing the slightly bloodied bandages on his arm. "Are you?"

"I've had worse. A lot worse." Nodding but not inquiring, she felt a somewhat awkward silence descend that encouraged her to speak again.

"So... Um... Now that we've got the fragment and it's all over... Did I pass?"

* * *

><p>Mmm... Not too happy with this chapter. The quest turned out to be harder to put to writing than I had expected, but hopefully things will proceed a little more smoothly from now on. Regardless, thank you for reading, and feel free to leave a review telling me what you think.<p> 


	12. Chapter 12

Oh my god I can't believe I found this again.

I can offer no explanation other than college for this unfathomable delay.

* * *

><p>Farkas only chuckled at first, and answered her simply.<p>

"That's not for me to say, Kodlak gets the final call. But I'll be able to put in a pretty good word for you." A little disappointed that she couldn't get an immediate answer, Elanin only nodded, taking a moment to observe the chamber around them. The desiccated corpses of over a score of Draugr lay scattered about the floor, and she shuddered as the image of the hacked corpses rising again invaded her mind. Shrugging it off, her eyes rested on a dust caked chest tucked in the upper right corner of the chamber, nestled amongst some ancient pottery. Deciding to investigate, she picked her way over the bodies and pushed the pots aside to open the container.

A simple "wow" was all she could whisper at the contents; two shields, one enchanted, and a significant pouch of gold. Reaching in, she lifted the sack, peeking inside to find a silver ring and some lock picks amongst the coins.

"Treasure?" Farkas questioned as he came up from behind.

"Yes." she replied, unable to stop a wide, beaming smile from spreading across her features. So _this_ was what it felt like to be an adventurer, finally earning your reward. A sense of triumph filled her, and all the fatigue of the previous battles was gone from her mind. She had fought for this, every bit of it, and now it was hers. Gods, there had to be a few hundred septims worth of loot in here! The fact that such wealth was small change in comparison to her previous fortune didn't even register, she had _earned_ this.

"It's not much." Farkas remarked, unintentionally sapping a small bit of her joy. "But it'll do." Reaching into the coin pouch, she pulled out the ring, feeling a touch of magic in it as she held it up up examine it. A tiny purple gem, probably amethyst, decorated the otherwise bare band of silver. Furrowing her brows, she focused on determining the enchantment, and found that the ring gave of a feeling of protection. Some kind of defensive spell then? Or maybe a skill augmenter... It was difficult to say; the spell was old and weak.

"This ring is enchanted." she announced, putting it back in the bag and leaving out the fact she couldn't determine its exact properties. Reaching in again, she held up one of the shields, a simple wooden construct bound in leather with an iron center. "So is this shield. It seems to have a resistance to fire..."

"Good. Grab what you can and give me the rest, with luck we can sell them tomorrow." Nodding, she took the pouch of coins and the enchanted shield and worked them into her pack, handing him the simple iron shield that remained. He managed to fit it on the same harness that held his sword, and turned to a rickety staircase that led to the chambers smaller second level. "Now lets get out of here. There should be a short cut to the entrance." Following his lead, she stayed just behind as he climbed the stairs, watching as they came to see four now empty coffins lining the wall. One, however, wasn't just empty. The open tomb was now a doorway to an upward sloping tunnel, and she felt the unmistakable hint of a breeze from the other side. Leading the way through, Farkas silently climbed the torchlit passage, his ease telling her that there would be no enemies here. The walls were mossy and damp, but had clearly been carved by man as the rotting support beams showed. It seemed like they'd only followed the erratically twisting tunnel for a few minutes before it dead ended, a simple lever standing beside the blank wall. Moving with familiarity, Farkas gave the device a tug, and a few muffled cracks and pops issued from the stone. A door sized slab of stone shifted forward in the wall, and began to drop seamlessly into the ground to reveal the next chamber. Marveling at the still working gears, Elanin followed Farkas into the next room, kicking aside the pots that had masked the entrance from the other side.

The room they came into was the first they had entered, and she couldn't stop a sigh of relief as they turned right and saw the entrance. Gods, how long had they been underground? Hours? She'd never been so relieved just to smell fresh air... Moving ahead, she pulled the great iron doors open, and was greeted with a rush of warm, late afternoon air and sun. Stepping out, she welcomed the great, cloudy blue sky overhead, hurrying up the stairs to free herself from the pit. When the plains stretched out before her, she took a moment to admire the sight, casting her gaze far and wide. Whiterun was small in the horizon; so far away she could only see it because it was on a higher altitude. A rocky series of hills jutted out some distance away, and she turned her attention to the river she could see running beside it. The sight of scores of great, shaggy animals grazing beside the water startled her greatly, and she took a cautionary step back. She'd seen them before, in the far distance, but they were now only a few hundred yards away.

"Mammoths." Farkas explained as he walked past her, having seen her staring. "They're harmless, so long as you keep your distance." _There's no need to worry about that._.. She told herself, shuddering to imagine what kind of damage such massive creatures could do. From their trunk like legs to their four ground scrapings tusks, they could probably gore a man and crush him in the same step. Turning away, she followed Farkas back to where they had left the horses, and they found the two animals still grazing obediently not far from where they'd been left. The sight of the animals happily munching away made her stomach rumble almost embarrassingly loud, and she decided to wait until they were moving to grab some food from her pack. Approaching her mount, she was greeted quite warmly by the young stallion, and she gave it a pat on the snout.

"What time will we be back?" she asked.

"Nightfall. Maybe sooner, if we're fast."

"Hmm." she grunted in response, finally climbing into the saddle. Tossing its head, her stallion flicked its tail and started back to the path without any bidding, trotting with eagerness. Startling, she took hold of the reins, but decided to let the animal take charge when it took the proper trail on its own. Farkas came up beside her, and she waited until they were going at a steady pace before opening her pack and helping herself to some lunch. She was midway through a dried chunk of meat when a question interrupted her meal.

"So, what brings a High Elf to Skyrim?"

Quickly swallowing her current mouthful, Elanin considered her response carefully.

"Necessity." she replied, unsure if she really wanted to elaborate.

"Necessity to what?" he pressed.

"To survive." she clipped, sending them into silence. Catching herself, she reconsidered her coldness. Was there any real reason for her not to share her tale? It _ was_ quite impressive, now that she thought back on it. Why not tell it?

"I was disinherited." she began, regaining his attention. With a tad bit of flair, she told of her predicament with her fathers inheritance, of her exclusion from the Will, and her journey north. Even though he was behind her, she could tell he was listening in rapt attention. It certainly was a fun story to tell to a good audience, no doubt because she was the star. It wasn't until she got to her capture by the Imperials and her wagon ride to Helgen that he had anything to say.

"Helgen? You were there?" he said, spurring his mount so they walked side by side.

"Yes." she replied, quite surprised by the normally stoic Nords show of clear excitement.

"Then you saw it? The... dragon?"

"Saw it? It saved me. Had it not shown up when it did, I would be dead." she said, the last sentence hitting her hard. It was undeniable; had that dragon _not_ shown up when it did, her head would be rotting on a stake... Gods, there was a thought that chilled her to the bone.

"What did it look like? How big was it?" Farkas pressed, sounding more like a young boy with his excitement. It was hard not to find the enthusiasm a little endearing, if a bit out of character.

"It was black as night, with spines from nose to tail." she said, adding a tad bit of flair to her voice and gestures. "It was as big as an inn, and it could have swallowed a man with two bites." Recalling the day vividly, she felt her voice lower a little as the blur of fire and death replayed in her head. "Every time it roared, the air seemed to split. Fire rained from the sky..."

"That's must have been quite a sight." Farkas replied, his voice hushed in awe. "Never thought I'd even meet someone who'd seen a dragon. You'll have to share the full tale when the others return, I imagine it'll be the most exciting we've heard in some time."

"Yes." she mused, fading off in thought. "Though I doubt it will be so for long."

"You're probably right." he agreed with a nod, sounding far more excited than she.

They continued on in thoughtful silence, reaching Whiterun just as the shadows were getting long and stabling their horses before entering the city. It wasn't until Jorrvaskr was in her sights once more that Elanin recalled her test, and that she wouldn't know the results until Kodlak made his judgement. Feeling worry gnaw at her gut, she let Farkas take the lead up the stone steps to the ancient hall, lagging behind like a child preparing to face a scolding parent. But, inevitably, she had to face her fears, and she entered just after Farkas.

"I'll need to speak with Kodlak alone." Farkas said as the door closed behind her. Nodding in understanding, she shouldered her heavy pack, looking about the mostly empty hall. The table had been modestly set, and she was hungry enough that grabbing a quick bite sounded like a good idea.

"Feel free to grab something to eat and then drop your things off downstairs." Farkas said over his shoulder, leaving her to enter the lower levels. "I'll come and get you when something's been decided."

"Of course." she replied simply, watching him go. Once he was gone, she walked wearily over to the table, setting her pack down as she settled back in a chair. Feeling her tense and overworked muscles finally relax, she grabbed an apple and a cup of a watery ale, eating slowly as she pondered her situation. If she wasn't accepted by the Companions, what would she do then? She didn't exactly have the coin to go anywhere, and even if she had, where could she go? No, whatever happened, she was stuck in a harsh and very unforgiving land, surrounded by savages. Granted, said savages had certainly proven to be more civil than she had expected, but that didn't change things. Nords, and all other races, just weren't as naturally gifted as the Altmer. That wasn't arrogance or anything, that was just a simple _fact_, yes?

Finishing her meal, she picked up her pack to head downstairs, grabbing a boiled creme treat for dessert. The sweet did little to lift her mood, and she only became more aware of a growing fear gnawing at her gut. Her future had always seemed so sure, so bright, and so welcoming. But now... it was unknown, and brought with it the cold terror of said uncertainty. Shivering, she headed down to the shared quarters of the newer recruits, and proceeded to remove her armor. Sitting back on a bed, she allowed her tense muscles a chance to uncoil, and couldn't hold back a few grunts of pain as they began to protest. Her sword arm was in particularly bad shape, as the overworked muscles seemed to burn and sting with every tiny movement. This made removing her armor far more difficult, but the satisfaction of removing its weight was stimulus enough to keep her going, and soon she had the heavy iron settled neatly on the floor. Sighing, she stretched her tired body, laying down on the bed for a few minutes of much needed rest.

"Hey Elanin, you down here?" an all too familiar voice called, startling her just as Farkas appeared in the doorway. "There you are. Kodlak is ready to start the ceremony."

"I... already?" she squeaked, unable to compose herself. _Now_? It hadn't even been an hour!

"It wasn't a hard decision." he replied, sounding almost assuring. Standing from the bed and putting her feet in her boots, she tried to take comfort in the words, and allowed him to lead the way. Following him up the stairs and out to the training area, she saw that Kodlak and Skjor were waiting for them, standing expectantly in the torchlit darkness. Farkas left her behind to stand beside the two older men, leaving her standing before them a little awkwardly, shivering in the cold night air.

"Brothers of the Circle, today we may welcome a new soul into our mortal fold..." Kodlak began, initiating the ritual. "This woman has endured, has challenged, and has shown her valor." He looked to the two men beside him, though the answer to his next question was obvious. "But who will speak for her?"

Farkas stepped forth, arms crossed quite informally over his chest as he replied in a rehearsed but genuine tone.

"I stand witness to the courage of the soul before us."

"Would you raise your shield in her defense?" Kodlak asked, slipping into a calmer tone that carried a hint of pride. He knew these words well and spoke them with joy upon every new arrival.

"I would stand at her back, that the world might never overtake us." Farkas answered. Elanin was a little taken aback by the vow. Rehearsed or no, not a soul had ever spoken of her like that. Did he really mean it? Would someone who really knew so little about her die in her defense? Regardless, she felt her fears of failure dissipate.

"And would you raise your sword in her honor?"

Farkas nodded, grim but still genuine, and gave the answer. "It stands ready to meet the blood of her foes." Kodlak turned to Elanin for the first time, his wind beaten features crinkling upward in amusement.

"And would you raise a mug in her name?"

"I would lead the song of triumph as our mead hall reveled in her stories." the warrior replied, thumping his chest with enthusiasm. No doubt, that was his favorite part of the oath. Kodlak clasped his hands behind his back, smiling softly with a kind of satisfaction that Elanin had never seen as he continued.

"Then the judgement of this circle is complete."

A sense of rightness descended over Elanin at that moment, as if some great force had heard the old mans words and nodded with approval at her being there. Yes, she was _meant_ to be here, she could feel it in the sincerity of the words from the man before her. They had been passed down for centuries and generations, going from soul to soul time and time again until this very night, when they had finally come to her.

"Her heart beats with the fury and courage that have united the Companions since the days of the distant green summers. Let it beat with ours, that the mountains may echo and our enemies may tremble at the call."

The two other men nodded their affirmation and spoke the words that had been said since the first.

"It shall be so."

The words faded on a chilly breeze into the night, and took with them the atmosphere that had been so strong mere moments before. Suddenly, Elanin was reminded of where she was; shivering before a rather small assortment of barbarians, miles away from where she truly belonged. The fact that she'd allowed herself to get carried away so easily made her feel quite silly, so much so that she didn't even realize Kodlak was before her until he spoke once more.

"Well girl, you're one of us now."

Startling, she looked back up at the white haired warrior, and he gave her a smile that was almost... teasing?

"I trust you won't disappoint."

Crossing her arms from the cold, she tucked back a strand of hair thoughtfully.

"No... I hope not..."

"If what Farkas told me is true, you have nothing to fear." he assured, resting a hand on her shoulder. The contact surprised her, both in its sincerity and her lack of desire to pull back from it. "He also seemed to believe you had quite a few interesting stories to tell."

Something akin to a genuine laugh passed her lips. "I would say I do."

"I would be honored to hear them someday, if you ever felt the desire to share." Kodlak replied, walking back to Jorrvaskr with her. Though the initial telling of her tale had been fun, the thought of going through it again was suddenly thoroughly unappealing, albeit due more to exhaustion than anything else. Still, she didn't want to disappoint her technical leader, and so she replied simply.

"Someday, perhaps."

The old man seemed to read more of her hesitation than she'd intended, but he only pushed the doors open before her and gave a final bit of advice before leaving her alone in the main hall.

"I understand. Take some time to rest and adjust before your next quest. I have a feeling you'll be needing your strength in the coming days."

With that, he and the other two left for the lower level, leaving her alone with only the dying light of the great fire pit beside her. Looking deep into the dying red coals, she absentmindedly watched the embers rise off the hot bed; riding the thick curls of smoke before smoldering and curling into nothingness. The visual made her think; how long might it be before the same happened to her? Was she nothing more than a tiny wisp on the wind, taking that last ride on the breeze of chance before her fate claimed her? Or was there still a chance? Could she truly be strong enough to fight for all she'd lost and survive?

_I've made it this far_... she reminded herself. _Perhaps I may surprise myself yet again _... _But I'll need a plan, in addition to strength. That's what tomorrow will be for, then._

Yes, tomorrow. She could start planning tomorrow. She told that to herself often these days, but had there ever been a point in her life where the days had been so exhausting? Where a rest had needed to be _earned_? No... she thought not.

With that thought, she went to the lower levels, found a proper bed, and laid herself down for one of the most deserved rests of her life.

Wakefulness came to her quietly at some unknown hour after a dreamless but refreshing sleep, leaving her feeling rested for what had to be the first time in ages. Lifting her head, she looked about the room to see that the candles and goat horn chandeliers had long since died out to leave the room in considerable darkness. Knowing that more sleep would only sour her rest, she took but a moment to enjoy the warmth of the soft hides before raising herself to a sitting position and stretching-

"Oh _Gods_..."

Every other muscle in her body let out an aching protest to its initial movement, with her joints cracking and popping in equally painful tandem. Wincing, she sat up and rolled her shoulders to test her range, finding her right side to be significantly more sore.

Standing from the bed, she discovered that the initial stretch was the worst of the pain, and that everything afterward was far more tolerable. Cracking her back with a twist, she adjusted her simple leather under armor clothes and slipped into her heavy iron boots, feeling a light gnawing at her belly already demanding breakfast. With a bit of a stiff walk, she headed for the upper level, groping a little in the unfamiliar dark until she found the handle. Opening the door without thinking, she gasped as the rush of bright morning light that filled the upper level hit her full force, making her wince away before she felt ready enough to move forward. Still winking for the first few steps, she emerged fully into the sunlight streaming from the windows, blocking it with her hand as she ascended the stairs.

When she took a breath, a warm and heavenly smell greeted her nostrils, and she recognized it in a heartbeat.

Sweet rolls...

Quickening her step and following her nose, she looked to the great meal table, and immediately locked her eyes on a plate bearing a dozen of the delicious treats. No doubt still warm, the spongy brown baked goods were literally dripping with glossy white icing, creating a sight so appealing that her mouth watered as shamelessly as a dog beholding a plate of treats. Reaching the table in a flash, she immediately grabbed two and made a bid to pick up a third.

"Hungry, eh?"

Barely resisting the urge to jump, she looked up to see Farkas sitting on the far end of the table, a mug in hand and a look of pure amusement on his face. She was almost equally surprised to see him devoid of his armor and sword for a change, and clad instead the same casual attire that she'd seen other civilians wear.

Recovering and clearing her throat, she calmly picked up a single treat so as not to appear too eager and save some of her lost face, but no amount of forced dignity could hide the blush in her cheeks.

"A little."

Sitting at the opposite end of the table, she waited until his attention was back to his own meal before she grabbed her first bite. The still warm icing hit her in a heavenly rush so intense that she all but tuned out everything else just to relish in her first taste of something genuinely delicious in ages.

"Aela came back last night." Farkas said suddenly, making her glance up from her treat briefly before returning to her meal with a polite acknowledgement.

"Oh? I didn't see her..."

"She's around. Comes and goes whenever she wants."

"Hm."

"We all do though."

The statement struck a cord in her thoughts, so much so that she decided to take a moment to inquire.

"Do a lot of you... _not_ come back?"

The question didn't make him pause as she'd expected, and instead he only shrugged and said:

"Not really. If you can get in, you can usually handle yourself."

"Does anyone ever leave then?" she asked, now genuinely curious. After all, she had no intention of staying any longer than what was absolutely necessary.

"Sure. Don't know why you would. Vilkas and I have been here since we were little whelps, and we're not leaving."

_That_ genuinely surprised her.

"You've... been here since you were children?"

Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on the table as he explained. "Our father, Jergen, raised us here."

The thought sent a worming feeling of discomfort through her. Raising a child, _any_ child, in such a place? This was a Guild Hall for grown warriors, not an orphanage. And yet, the look in his eyes as he continued was one of warm nostalgia, amusement, and even... longing?

"We were accepted as full fledged warriors before we were even up to Kodlak's shoulders. Vignar didn't like it; said even he couldn't remember Companions that young, and that it went against tradition. But Jergen was proud."

A polite knock on the main door interrupted his brief tale, yet before either one of them could even think of rising Tilma appeared from the unseen corner of her vision to open it in a single fluid movement.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, I have a summons from the Jarl... He's looking for a Companion called... Elanin?"

* * *

><p>I promise that I won't let this story go to waste, but please understand that life is hard for me right now and only threatens to get harder. Reviews and PMs are always welcome.<p> 


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